


The Vampire Prince

by mytinystars



Category: Monsta X (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BTS plays minor roles, Background Relationships, Blood Drinking, Bottom Lee Jooheon, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kim Namjoon | RM is So Done, Kim Seokjin | Jin is a Sweetheart, M/M, Monsta X are Sweethearts, Original Character(s), Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, References to Depression, Royalty and Aristocracy, Top Im Changkyun | I.M, Vampires, Victorian Attitudes, Victorian setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 97,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24526501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytinystars/pseuds/mytinystars
Summary: Feeling slightly like he’s being led to his own execution, Minhyuk isn’t sure what to expect as Seokjin guides them down the Prince’s hallway. He feels his stomach flip with nerves as they walk closer to the magnificent door.“Remain silent unless he tells you to speak. Just follow what I do.” Seokjin stops right outside the door. He knocks. Minhyuk holds his breath.At first, there’s silence.Then a soft voice calls through the door.“Enter.”And Seokjin places a hand on the golden door knob and pushes the door open.Lee Minhyuk, Yoo Kihyun and Chae Hyungwon, along with two knights fresh from the training academy, are accepted to become personal attendants to the heir to the throne of the Vampire Kingdom. No one has been able to hold this job longer than two decades.But the Prince is unlike anything they ever could have expected, and Kihyun, Minhyuk and Hyungwon are determined to be different. With growing threats from the Werewolves, the charming son of an aristocrat, and his own father, friends and protection are what the Prince is going to need the most.
Relationships: Im Changkyun | I.M/Lee Jooheon, Lee Hoseok | Wonho/Yoo Kihyun, Lee Minhyuk/Son Hyunwoo | Shownu, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1: The Prince Himself

**Author's Note:**

> [Vampire Prince Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3K31TxC52wxTuju06Q39Z7?si=E-UhQ1IVRdCLC79WfrZm7w)

**Chapter 1 - The Prince Himself**

* * *

_Sarisong City. Mid-Late June. 1889._

Kihyun watches silently from the doorway as the woman, an aged vampire with shaky hands and crinkles around her eyes, packs away the last of her belongings. She moves slowly, but he can’t tell if it’s because she’s older or if she’s reluctant to leave. When Kihyun had first arrived nearly half an hour ago, the woman, Shin Jaehwa, had been wearing a plain black dress with a red apron and white top with lace sleeves. Now she’s wearing something that looks like it belongs to Kihyun’s mother—a brown skirt, and a long sleeved tunic the color of sand. The woman, Jaehwa, had looked a little regal, respectable, when Kihyun introduced himself. Now she looks like just another common woman.

He glances around. The room still smells of her and the two other women, her coworkers who had been fired along with her. He hadn’t managed to arrive in time to meet them, but he can smell them and probably will for a while. Vampire scents are unique to the vampire and tend to last, and get stronger with age. From what he’s gathered, all three of the women are older than three hundred, or sixty in human years. He’ll have to wash his new bed sheets multiple times, he thinks wearily, to fully get rid of the smell.

“I hope you can handle him,” The woman, Jaehwa, says offhandedly. She seems a little forlorn. He can’t tell why.

“He can’t be that bad,” Kihyun replies, but he’s starting to doubt himself. 

He’d been looking forward to this. He’d been excited to come to Sarisong and begin his new job. Immediately upon setting foot in the colossal palace, though, all he’s heard is that he’s going to be dealing with a handful. He’d been greeted at the gates by Kim Seokjin, the Head Attendant of the palace, and then introduced to many staff members. All of them had had something to say about his new job. The few he can remember by name are the ones who seem genuinely concerned for him. Even Seokjin, a kind man with a dazzling face and even prettier smile, had warned him. 

Kihyun just can’t understand why.

“He’s not, really. He.. you have to work at him,” The woman answers. “Doesn’t open up easily. Slow to anger, but he’s got a temper like his father’s. Destructive. Like a hurricane.”

Kihyun doesn’t reply, sweeping another gaze around the room that is now his bedroom. Three beds are lined against the far left wall. The floor is stone, the walls the same, because the room is in the very bottom level of the palace. All of the servant quarters, as well as the kitchens and the catacombs, according to Seokjin, are located in the palace basement. The room itself is dusty and damp, but otherwise appears to be clean. Old vampiric tapestries hang from rusted nails in the cracked walls. Some of the images are so faded it’s hard to tell what they’re supposed to be. A round rug, threads of faint red and black and gold and white, lies in the center of the small room. The room is more of a half-basement apartment than anything else, with windows at ground level. If he stands on his tiptoes to look through the dirty glass, a sea of dark green is all he can see until his eyes trail to the murky water of the moat encompassing the palace.

“Are we allowed to open the windows?” Kihyun asks.

“Oh, yes,” Jaehwa says, snapping the suitcase on the third bed closed. “You can clean up and reorganize as you’d like. But you won’t be spending a lot of time here.”

“Is he very demanding?”

“Not at all. But if he doesn’t need you, then someone else will.”

“I thought my job was to attend to him and him alone,” Kihyun furrows his brows, confused.

“It is, technically. But you’re a servant before you’re a vampire in this palace. If someone else needs you for something, you haven’t got much choice. Many nobles in the palace act as if they’re the monarchs more than the royal family does.”

Kihyun sighs internally. He’d somewhat expected this.

When he had first gotten the letter that he’d been accepted out of a long list of candidates to attend to the Prince, he had been really excited. He likes to think that years of schooling in the arts of hospitality and cooking has prepared him for this. He likes to take care of people and spent his after-school years jumping from job to job in hostels and inns. It’s only after he’s arrived at the palace that the reality of the situation is beginning to sink in. He’s been selected to be the personal attendant to the Prince of Vampires himself. He knows this will be different from waiting on common vampires and the occasional Noble in a luxury train or a hostel. Now he’s more nervous than excited.

“He’s a sweet boy, he is,” the woman says, and looks at him. In that moment she seems.. withered. It’s unlikely she’s older than three hundred, but she appears to carry the weight of a millennia on her shoulders. “But... he doesn’t have his, ah, reputation for no reason. The boy has suffered a lot in his life.”

“How old is he, again?” 

“Ninety,” she replies. 

Kihyun blinks in surprise. The Prince is very young. Kihyun is only about three decades older than him. Kihyun dips his head, and runs a finger along the surface of the dresser closer to the door. The tip of his finger comes back caked with a thin layer of dust. 

The woman keeps talking, though, to his surprise. “And I’m not supposed to tell you, but”—she looks around anxiously, even though it’s just the two of them in the candlelit room—“he’s a wolf.”

Kihyun snaps his head up and stares at the woman in shock. Being able to shift into an animal form is an ability exclusive to vampires of true royalty. A royal vampire’s animal form is a crushing secret to keep. He remembers reading about it in his classes in primary school many times. Kihyun didn’t have any intention to learn what the Prince’s animal form is, but now he can’t unhear it. He feels slightly violated, like he’d had no choice but to overhear the most private of conversations, but he’s more angry than anything at the woman. How could she tell him something so personal?

“Why would you tell me that?” Kihyun breathes, horrified that she would put such heavy knowledge on his shoulders. 

The woman doesn’t answer him. She fixes him with a hard stare. She clutches the bulging fake leather suitcase, and the air ripples. With a whoosh, she’s gone, the carpet where she stood fluttering in the breeze she leaves behind.

* * *

The last person Lee Minhyuk expects to see when Seokjin, the kind Head of Attendants, leads him to his quarters, is Yoo Kihyun dusting one of the creaky, towering bookshelves against the stone walls. He gapes once his gaze lands on his old friend; Kihyun looks so different, but he’s still so undeniably Kihyun. His hair, a beautiful dark brown, is thick and falls over his eyes in soft waves. His cheeks are filled out healthily and his arms aren’t as wiry as they used to be. He looks wonderful.

“Kihyun-ah?” Minhyuk can’t help but gasp in surprise, looking at the younger vampire in shock. Kihyun turns his head sharply, brown locks swinging, and his own eyes grow wide. Seokjin looks between the two, bewildered.

“You know each other, then?” he asks uncertainly, a worried smile on his cheeks.

Kihyun grins then, pearly fangs poking over his bottom lip. Minhyuk feels his own face pull into a smile. Memories of Kihyun from their school days, which was well over a century ago, flit behind his eyes the longer he stares at his friend. 

“Wonderful,” Seokjin claps twice, looking a little relieved. “I must go now, but when your third partner comes, I’ll introduce you to him. I’ll give you briefings once he’s arrived.”

“Thank you, Seokjin-ssi,” Minhyuk replies, bowing to the older vampire. He sees Kihyun do the same.

“That’s hyung to you,” Seokjin gives another warm smile, and the air ripples where he stands and then he’s gone. 

Minhyuk turns to Kihyun again, a wide smile on his aching cheeks. It’s been decades since he’s last seen Kihyun. Neither of them come from poor families, but they’re not exactly nobles, either. Once they’d finished primary school, Kihyun’s family had moved away so he could go to upper school. Minhyuk’s family had stayed in the village. Their lives had been simple, pleasant, back then. He didn’t know if he’d ever see Kihyun again, but there he is, just five steps away.

Minhyuk drags his stuff further into the room, unsure if he should try to embrace Kihyun or not, but he’s barely righted himself when he feels Kihyun’s arms around his torso and he gleefully holds his friend, breathing in his scent. The room is musty, but not enough to swallow the smell of pine that Kihyun carries with him. 

“You look healthy,” Kihyun says once he pulls away.

“That I am,” Minhyuk grins back. “You as well. My God, I’d never expected to see _you_ here.”

“Nor I you,” Kihyun smirks. “Tell me, then, old friend. What path did you follow that led you here? Unpack your stuff while you’re at it. I’m trying to air the room out.”

Kihyun has already selected the first bed, closest to the door, judging by the fact that it’s been stripped of its bedding and a few little trinkets, pictureframes and the like, sit neat and organized on the bedside table to the left. Minhyuk drops his bags on the middle bed, cringing at the crinkled, stale fabric under his fingers. Maybe he’ll have a chance to go out to the market and get new detergent before the moon rises and he’ll need to meet the Prince.

“Well, I can’t say my story is quite exciting, because it isn’t.” Minhyuk replies with a little laugh. “My family moved closer to the castle recently and pressured me to find work. Somehow I wound up here. What about you?”

“Well, after I finished school I went from job to job for a little while.”

“As...?”

“An innkeeper, a waiter, a butler. I went to school for hospitality, you know.”

“You always did like to take care of people,” Minhyuk replies fondly. Kihyun nods.

Kihyun reaches up to unhook the windowsill, but the latch doesn’t budge. He tries again with a little more force, but it still doesn’t give way. He puts his hands on his hips with a huff.

“Well, no wonder it’s so dusty in here. The windows don’t even open,” Kihyun sighs.

“I’ll help you,” Minhyuk wanders over to help. 

It seems the windows haven’t been opened in years. Opening all the windows takes longer than he expects, but eventually he and Kihyun manage to let fresh air waft into the room. Dust is caked on the glass and lines the sills. He knows Kihyun will have him and their third roommate help him deep clean the room as soon as possible but really, Minhyuk doesn’t mind. The room is almost untouched—there’s barely any furniture, and it’s so incredibly dusty.

They spend the next twenty minutes or so cleaning up a little and in Minhyuk’s case, unpacking. He learns that Kihyun’s been there a full two hours before he’s arrived and is fully unpacked. He’s selected one of the three dressers, the one under the windows, for his clothing and Minhyuk takes the one closer to the bathroom. The third dresser is by the bookcase. Other mechanics and tools are scattered about the room—a sewing machine next to Kihyun’s dresser, laundry hampers by each bed, and drying racks. He hopes Kihyun or their new roommate knows how to use the sewing machine, because he sure doesn’t.

Minhyuk doesn’t hear Seokjin come in and he jumps when his voice, cheery and pleasant, floats from the doorway. He and Kihyun immediately duck into a bow.

“Oh, good, you managed to open the windows,” Seokjin muses. “It’s been ages since they’ve been opened. Come on, stand up. Meet your new roommate.”

When Minhyuk rights himself, he immediately sees a lanky young vampire with fluffy black hair and thick lips standing next to Seokjin. He’s tall as a tree and terribly thin—his top hangs off his bony shoulders—but his scent is lovely. He smells pleasantly of vanilla cake batter, and despite his sunken cheeks, sleepy eyes and wiry arms, he seems otherwise healthy.

“Hello,” The lanky boy murmurs, bowing at forty-five degrees. “My name is Chae Hyungwon. It’s nice to meet you.”

Minhyuk decides he likes the boy. He seems kind, if a little sleepy.

“Hi,” Kihyun greets. “I’m Yoo Kihyun. This is Lee Minhyuk.”

“I’ll let you all get unpacked and cleaned,” Seokjin says, clearly relieved that they all appear to get along. “I’ll be back around 9 to give you your uniforms and a brief tour around the palace. You’ll meet the Prince at 11.”

Minhyuk glances at the creaky clock above the bathroom door. _8:27 p.m._ He can’t believe Kihyun had gotten here at 6 p.m.—that was so early. Minhyuk hadn’t even been awake at 6 p.m. When Minhyuk had asked if Kihyun was crazy, Kihyun had replied that he wanted to make a good first impression, which was also something that was uniquely Kihyun. But he’d also mentioned that they were supposed to be there by 9 p.m., which was early in Minhyuk’s world. Who knew what the Prince wanted them so early for?

It strikes him then that he doesn’t know anything about the Prince. He’s never even seen the young heir before, save for in pictures in news articles, but even that was rare and the last newspaper edition that featured the Prince had been issued more than fifty years ago, right after the Queen died. The young Prince is known for remaining largely out of sight ever since. 

When the King would spend ridiculous amounts of money on lavish parties only 5% of the Vampire Kingdom’s population could afford to attend, it’s common knowledge that the Prince would spend more time hidden than not. Minhyuk is deeply curious about the Prince, and a little intimidated. He knows he has a desire to befriend the Prince. Whether or not that desire is smart is debatable, especially because of the reputation the prince seems to have, but he can’t help it. He guesses he’s more anxious to meet the heir than anything.

Suddenly he doesn’t know if he’s prepared for this. He doesn’t know anything about the royal family or the rules they’re supposed to follow. He’s been middle class his entire life, living just on the outskirts of Yangjin with Kihyun and all of their other childhood friends. The Kingdom’s capital, Sarisong, is a day by foot and half a day away on horseback and his family had never had a reason to go inside the City of Riches. It’s only now that they’d saved up enough to move into a bigger house closer to the capital did he ever even think about going to Sarisong, let alone working in the castle itself.

He’s never experienced life inside the walled city. He doesn’t know how to behave, doesn’t know what would be expected of him, doesn’t know what he would be expected to know. It’s one thing to be an attendant in the palace. It’s another thing entirely to be an attendant to the heir himself. He swallows. When he glances at Hyungwon, whose already white face looks almost see-through, he realizes he’s the only one afraid. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Seokjin says coolly. It’s as if he senses Minhyuk’s discomfort. “Not everyone who ever filled this position came from wealth. You’ll find the Prince is, ah, open-minded, in a way. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. We don’t expect much of you right away and the Prince isn’t very demanding.”

Seokjin is a kind man. Minhyuk likes him. He’s friendly and devastatingly handsome, and when Minhyuk had asked for his age, as is customary of vampires to show signs of respect, the tall vampire had explained he’s a little over two-hundred years old and has served inside the palace since King Byungwook was still a young prince. If there’s anyone who knows the palace like the back of his hand, it’s Seokjin, and Minhyuk counts his lucky stars that the man is so incredibly kind and willing to help.

Seokjin leaves after they bid him thanks and Hyungwon shuffles to the remaining bed. His suitcase is small, and he only has one. Kihyun and Minhyuk both have two and a satchel each. Noting this, and Hyungwon’s thinness, it’s not very hard to tell he likely comes from poverty. 

Minhyuk wonders briefly how Hyungwon managed to get a job inside the palace. He doesn’t have anything against people who were less fortunate, especially since his own family erred on the side of the lower middle class, but he can’t say the same for other people, especially families who lived within the City of Riches. The caste system is slowly falling in the Vampire Kingdom and compared to the Siren Empire or Werewolf Sultanate, vampires as a race aren’t as strict about maintaining class. But vampires have their own problems; they’re trapped under the greedy thumb of the King, and the King works hard to maintain the caste system and has ever since he came to power nearly four centuries ago. 

“So, Hyungwon-ssi,” Kihyun begins as he lights one of the many candles on the bookshelf. The night is coming, darknening the room, and Minhyuk can feel his body waking up more. “How old are you?”

“One hundred,” Hyungwon replies easily. “And you?”

“One hundred five.” Kihyun says. “Minhyuk is the same. You can call us hyung, if you want.” Minhyuk nods with a smile, then bends over to pull open one of the dresser drawers. They’re empty, but not dusty. They’ve been full of clothes recently.

“Were you born in the Kingdom?” Minhyuk asks over his shoulder.

“Yes. I’m from Tansu,” Hyungwon says softly. 

Minhyuk’s expecting that, but it also surprises him. Tansu, a vast city with a relatively low population, is the poorest city in the Kingdom and most middle-to-upper class families try to avoid it. Some areas of Tansu are home to rich environmental beauty, historical meaning, and culture, but most of the city is a very large shanty town. It’s been growing very slowly in wealth since Minhyuk was born two and half centuries ago, but when King Byungwook inherited the throne, Tansu was in the most desperate need of help, and he had done nothing except let the local government scramble to fix it. Minhyuk’s only ever been to Tansu twice in his life, both times he’d been accompanying his father with his work. From what he’s experienced, the further away one gets from the walled capital of Sarisong, the more hated King Byungwook is.

That’s why it surprises Minhyuk to hear Hyungwon is from Tansu. A majority of the Tansu population hate Byungwook for letting them suffer. It intrigues Minhyuk; why would Hyungwon want to work in the palace where the selfish monarch lives?

“Where are you from, hyung?” Hyungwon asks, seeming eager to stop talking about himself.

“Kihyun and I are from Yangjin. Well, I was born in Sunbaek, but he and I grew up in Yangjin,” Minhyuk explains. 

“I’ve never been to Sunbaek,” Hyungwon comments. “What’s it like?”

“I don’t remember enough to tell you about it,” Minhyuk replies. “My brother was born in Yangjin. We didn’t really spend enough time in Sunbaek to call it home.”

“Sunbaek is heavily fortified,” Kihyun remarks as he wipes the windows. “I’ve only ever been there once, but it’s a huge city. Security there is… ridiculous, actually.”

This is something everyone knows. Sunbaek is the largest of three port cities in the Kingdom, and also a hotspot for tourism and immigrants. For those reasons, the city is walled almost to the same extent that Sarisong is, and heavily secured by guards, knights, and other officials. Part of the reason it’s so populous, second in density only to Yangjin, is that it’s the epicenter of commercial and international trade and travel. Some of the Kingdom’s wealthiest merchants and shop owners live in the bustling streets of Sunbaek. 

Minhyuk remembers his father telling him and his little brother many stories of their ancestors, thousands of years before, immigrating to the Vampire Kingdom through that port. The very beginnings of his family’s roots are in that city, and yet he doesn’t feel as attached to it as he does to Yangjin. 

The next thirty minutes pass by quickly and the three men spend the time getting to know each other a bit more. Minhyuk is just placing the last of his belongings in his bedside table when Seokjin appears, the air rippling warmly around him. He holds a small wicker basket in his arms and when he reaches in, he produces a folded set of clothing and hands each man one set. Minhyuk marvels at the texture before even unfolding the uniform; it’s satin, very smooth, clearly made from fine material. He doesn’t think he’s ever worn or touched anything so silky. 

Seokjin leaves again very briefly to allow them to change. Once he’s fully dressed Minhyuk stares in awe at himself in the mirror. The uniform is black, white and red—the customary colors of the royal coat of arms and the official colors of the Vampire Kingdom. For a simple servant outfit, it’s impressive. The uniform top is a plain red and black satin tunic with white lace zigzagging down the sleeves, and a black overcoat that Seokjin explains is for outdoor purposes. The pants are a solid black, and made of thicker material, but equally as beautiful. 

“Does every servant in the palace wear something like this?” Hyungwon asks curiously, also eyeing himself in fascination.

“No, no.” Seokjin says with a slight chuckle. “These outfits are to distinguish you from other servants. Wearing these, everyone will know you’re the Prince’s personal attendants.”

“What do the other servants and maids wear?”

“Other staff uniforms are solid color. Most maids and servants wear all white. Staff who you see wearing solid black, or in my case, red, are typically at the head of a group of people. The head chef wears black while his cooks wear white. His majesty the King’s personal attendants wear outfits similar to yours, but they have hints of gold. 

“Now, shall I get started?” Seokjin claps his hands. The three men nod, turning their full attention to the head servant. “Excellent. Allow me to give you a tour of the palace.”

The palace looks huge from the outside, and it does not disappoint on the inside. It’s vast; a maze of hallways and corridors withhold ancient relics and works of art, old towers and belfries stretch to the sky, and endless staircases lead to countless rooms and platforms. There’s a lot to take in, but Minhyuk soaks the majesty of the palace up. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before. 

It takes nearly an hour of wandering around, but eventually Minhyuk begins to recognize certain areas. The main gate leads to the throne room, and two staircases against the left and right walls take them down what Seokjin called the Main Corridor. This corridor is the spine of the lowermost floor of the palace, smaller hallways branching off like ribs into small studies, parlors, libraries, and bedrooms. At the far end of the Main Corridor is a room Seokjin claimed was the Main Tower, a gargantuan room occupied only by a giant staircase that seems to spiral endlessly to the stars. At least the staircases don’t move, Minhyuk thinks, winded as he and the other two follow Seokjin up the steps and across a stone platform to another set of stairs that take them to another hallway.

Unlike the other hallways they’ve seen, this one is relatively empty, and much, much shorter, only about seven feet in length and ten in width. A single door, epic and carved delicately out of dark wood, is flattened into the wall at the end of the corridor, opposite the threshold of the hallway. This hallway is a dead end; it didn’t lead anywhere else. The door was there and nothing else.

“This is the Prince’s hallway. His bedroom is the room at the end. I understand it’s a lot, but the sooner you learn the corridors and stairways, the better. I might give you a few extra chores to help you familiarize yourself.” Seokjin explains. “This hallway, the kitchen, and your own room will be the most crucial to your job. The more you wander the halls, the quicker you’ll learn.”

Seokjin pauses, staring at the giant, dark door in contemplation.

“The Prince is not a social boy,” He says slowly. “He’ll sometimes wander the halls when no one else is around, but he’s more or less a ghost in his own palace. If you can’t find him, chances are he’s in the catacombs or the gardens. If he’s in either of those places, I’m very positive it’s because he wants to be alone.”

“Noted,” Kihyun replies.

“You three seem like a friendly set of people. Maybe you’ll be able to get him to come out of his shell some,” Seokjin tosses a blinding smile over his shoulder and Minhyuk’s stomach flips. How dare this man be so beautiful? 

“You sound kind of like you’re trying to convince yourself, hyung,” Hyungwon remarks softly as the group begin descending the stairs yet again.

Seokjin stops on the last step with a sigh, and turns to the men forlornly. “I’m going to be perfectly honest with you three. The Prince is hard to interact with. He’s... been through a lot. Don’t take it personally if he acts cold towards you. He really isn’t as bad as some things you may have heard here, seeing as we generally don’t see him often, but... he won’t be friendly right off the bat.”

“Do you have any tips on how we can properly care for him?” Kihyun asks.

“I wish I did,” Seokjin replies. “I was never in a position of attendant towards him. I like to think I’m the palace staff member he is closest to, but that’s not… saying a lot. I’ve known him since he was an infant, almost a century, but it’s always been someone else’s job to care for him. He’s gone through a lot of personal staff since the loss of the Queen. The longest a single set of personal attendants has remained at his side is almost two decades.”

In vampire statistics, that isn’t a long time. Four years in human statistics. This information alarms Minhyuk. He knows it’s rare for someone to hold this job, but that...

“Why do they replace the staff? Do they quit or...?” Hyungwon asks, tone tinged with something like worry.

“The Prince himself is usually the one to request replacement staff, but occasionally they will leave of their own accord.”

“Why does he do that?”

“I don’t know,” Seokjin frowns softly. “He never provides a reason. He doesn’t need to. If he says ‘jump’, you ask, ‘how high?’ That’s just how it is here.”

Minhyuk figures Seokjin would know, if it’s true he’s been tending to the royal family since King Byungwook was a small child. Minhyuk doesn’t know exactly how old the King is, but he has to be at least five and a half centuries old. His mind reels at the thought of Seokjin’s age in comparison to the King’s. Seokjin doesn’t look a day over twenty-seven and the King, who physically appears to be in his late forties, is younger than him by at least two centuries. Vampire age is a strange system.

“Anyway. The Prince will be ready to meet you in about an hour. I’ll give you the tour of the rest of the palace, but remember what I told you about familiarizing yourself with this hallway.” Seokjin says, then begins to walk away, gesturing for them to follow. He moves with such grace and poise, and the cloak around his shoulders hides his feet. He almost looks as though he’s floating.

In the end, they only see about 75% of the palace, as there are certain areas and rooms that they aren’t allowed to be around. Aside from the royal family members, only three individuals have access to these places: Seokjin, a tall vampire by the name of Kim Namjoon, and the King’s personal attendant, who apparently had tended to Byungwook since he was an infant. Already Minhyuk is starting to see contrasts between the King and his son.

Minhyuk remembers the huge mahogany clock in the throne room because as soon as it strikes 11 pm, eleven deafening chimes banged around the halls of the castle. He isn’t sure where exactly they are within the palace, but whatever hallway they’re in has multiple windows lining the walls, windows rimmed with gold and yawn from the ceiling to the floor. He stares out of one the one closest to him, stares out into the face of the moon—a yellow crescent, hanging high in the black night. He admires its brilliance for a moment, letting the moonlight flush through his body, then he peeres down at the city, and his breath leaves his lungs. 

He looks down upon the Kingdom in awe. The streets, once quiet and dim, are darkened by the night but lit up by lanterns, fires, and other light sources, and bustling with activity. The City of Riches below looks as though someone had sucked the stars from the sky and hid them in windows and lamps, illuminating the city in black and gold. The bright moon casts a beautiful silver glow on the glossy stone streets. Vampires drenched in expensive, glimmering fabrics of all colors dart and weave through buildings and the maze of paths and walkways. 

He decides instantly that this is his favorite view from the palace. It is truly magnificent.

“Come now. It’s 11 p.m.,” Seokjin says. “It’s time.”

Seokjin leads them up one more flight of stairs and Minhyuk realizes that the wonderful view he’d just seen is only one floor below the Prince’s hallway. The realization sends a spark of glee through Minhyuk’s chest.

Feeling slightly like he’s being led to his own execution, Minhyuk isn’t sure what to expect as Seokjin guides them down the Prince’s hallway. He feels his stomach flip with nerves as they walk closer to the magnificent door. There isn’t a lot of furniture in the hallway; a red and black velvet carpet stretches along the floor, a darkly colored wooden table and chair set is pressed against the wall a few paces to the right of the door, and a couple of pieces of old yet dazzling artwork hang from the walls, but other than that it’s barren. 

“Remain silent unless he tells you to speak. Just follow what I do.” Seokjin stops right outside the door and waits for the three of them to situate themselves behind him, then raises a fist and knocks firmly on the door four times. Minhyuk holds his breath.

At first, there’s silence. 

Then a soft voice calls through the door.

“Enter.”

And Seokjin places a hand on the golden door knob and pushes the door open.

Minhyuk doesn’t exactly get a chance to look around because as soon as all four men were inside the room, Seokjin drops to his knees and presses his forehead to the floor. Kihyun, Minhyuk and Hyungwon immediately copy him.

“Stand.” The voice comes again after a moment. The four men get to their feet and Minhyuk looks up into the face of the Prince.

He’s extremely handsome. That’s the first thing Minhyuk realizes. No older than physically 17 or 18, the Prince has a long nose and a somewhat triangular face, and his longish hair, a rich jet black, falls in gentle waves down his neck, around his forehead and ears. A pair of round, thin glasses rests on the bridge of his sharp nose and his eyes, the dark color of slate, are glazed with disinterest. However, once the Prince makes eye contact with Minhyuk, the indifference is replaced with surprise. He blinks, then glances at Seokjin.

“They’re… men?” He inquires softly. His voice is deep, and rich, smooth like honey. He sounds older than he is.

Seokjin gives him a gentle smile. “They filled all the criteria, I promise. My Prince, this is Yoo Kihyun.” 

Kihyun nods politely.

“Lee Minhyuk.”

Minhyuk smiles as pleasantly as he can.

“And Chae Hyungwon.”

Hyungwon dips his head.

“And this, young men,” Seokjin addresses them and gestures to the Prince, “is the Royal Highness, Crown Prince Changkyun.”

Instead of going to their knees like they had minutes before, Minhyuk and the other two bow deeply, folding ninety degrees at the waist. When they stand upright again, the Prince is scanning them up and down, as if sizing them up. Once he’s done looking all of them over, he nods, then turns to the wooden desk under the window on the right wall. He pulls the chair out and sits down at the desk, his back to them as he hunches over something flattened out on the dark surface.

Minhyuk blinks, not sure what to do next. He sees Kihyun sneak a cautious glance at Seokjin, but the older servant doesn’t look phased by the Prince’s reaction in the slightest.

“Is there anything you require at this moment, highness?” Seokjin asks coolly.

“No,” The Prince replies shortly. Seokjin dips his head.

“We’ll be away, then.”

Minhyuk follows Seokjin out of the room in slight awe. The entire experience had been incredibly… underwhelming. He hadn’t had much of a chance to look around, much less take anything in. Seokjin begins to walk back down the hallway after gently shutting the door, Hyungwon and Kihyun on his tail. Minhyuk hurries to keep up.

“Your duties as his personal attendants are to help him get ready for the night after he wakes up and ready for sleep before he goes to bed. You’re also to bring him breakfast and dinner if he decides to skip the meal, which he does often, so be aware. That is what he expects you to do, but aside from that… there’s not a lot else he asks of you. Regardless, your first priority is him. You need to be ready at the snap of a finger. That is how he will get your attention if he needs you.”

“Does he have any favorite flavors? Foods?” Minhyuk can’t help himself from asking.

“You’ll have to speak with the head chef about that. However, I will tell you that vampires of royal lineage cannot drink human blood. I’m not sure if you knew that, but you can leave the cooking and meal preparation to the head chef; he knows what to make. Your job is simply the delivery.”

“Right,” Minhyuk mumbles quietly. Kihyun glances at him over his shoulder. Minhyuk shrugs at him.

Earlier, Seokjin had warned them that the Prince wouldn’t be friendly immediately, but Minhyuk hadn’t expected... that. He isn’t sure what he had been expecting, really. Seokjin had explained that the Prince doesn’t interact easily with others, and that’s the most obvious; he’d said a total of five words in their presence, and Minhyuk can’t seem to get his voice out of his head. 

“It is going to be difficult at first,” Seokjin speaks again, his voice tinged with warning. “He’s very mature for his age, and his.. Experiences.. uh, have made him very proud. He’s going to reject your assistance and won’t ask you for help. How you deal with it is up to you, of course, but don’t do anything that will make him want to fire you. I... you must understand that I say this every time there is new staff. I can only warn you of what’s to come, because I see it every time. I wish I had tips to help you, but the most I can do is try to prepare you. No matter how hard I try, it seems it’s never enough.”

The man is gorgeous and looks amazingly young for how old he really is, but he looks tired in this moment, like the last dredges of any fight have been kicked from him. It dawns on Minhyuk that Seokjin has seen so many people come and go, gotten close to them only to watch them leave and never return. Seokjin has even survived a change of throne. Minhyuk decides if there’s anyone in the palace who deserves true respect, it’s Seokjin, for he has clearly seen everything. 

Minhyuk doesn’t want to be like the others. He wants to stay. He wants to be friends with the other palace staff, and be someone important to the Prince, someone he can rely on.

And if he fails, at least he can say he tried.

* * *

Minhyuk hums softly to himself as he strides down the Prince’s hallway, a wicker basket piled high with the Prince’s laundry wrapped in his arms. As Seokjin had told them he would, the Prince had remained in his room all day and did not interact with them at all. Hyungwon had been the one asked to deliver his lunch to him, and according to the younger vampire the Prince had thanked him for the meal, but not said anything else. Kihyun had had a similar experience when he brought the Prince his dinner. Minhyuk is a bit bemused by how eager they’d been to explain the Prince’s attitude. He considers that to be a good thing; the Prince may be pretty much asocial, but at least he’s polite.

As he reaches the last step and rounds the stone platform onto the next flight of stairs, he registers a figure toward the end of the hall, staring out the window he’d looked out of earlier. The figure wears a long, dark garment that hides their body, falling from their shoulders to the floor. Minhyuk wonders who it is. It’s late—the clock in the hallway reads _9:27 a.m._ , and the sun is beginning to rise and illuminate the city. The rest of the staff is starting to clean and wrap up, get ready for bed before the sun fills the palace and potentially causes skin damage. Whoever is gazing out the window obviously doesn’t care about the weak sunlight streaming through the glass onto the hallway floors. 

As Minhyuk creeps further down the stairs, closer to the figure, he realizes who it is.

He’s only seen it once, but recognizes the black-grey hair, the long nose, the glasses perched on its bridge. 

Prince Changkyun doesn’t give any acknowledgement of Minhyuk’s presence as Minhyuk approaches him, continuing to stare blankly through the glass. He seems almost in a trance, eyes fixed on the city hundreds of feet below where they stand.

“Good morning, young Prince,” Minhyuk says cheerfully, by way of greeting. “It’s getting late, but I’ll have your laundry done by the evening when you wake.”

Changkyun doesn’t spare him a glance, so Minhyuk doesn’t expect it at all when the Prince speaks. 

“Thank you,” He mumbles, his voice low and deep. 

Something warm spreads through his chest at the words and Minhyuk is surprised to admit being thanked by the Prince feels… good. He’d thought it strange when both Hyungwon and Kihyun gleefully reported being shown gratitude, but now he understands their feelings. Minhyuk supposes it means he’d subconsciously been worried that the Prince would turn out to be a selfish asshole, or worse. But that does not appear to be the case. Yet, at least.

He’s about to walk by, leave the Prince to his brooding, when something Seokjin mentioned earlier crosses his mind again. He wonders if he should say anything at all. The Prince stands by the window, not in front of it, leaned up against the wall with his back firmly to Minhyuk. His body language clearly conveys he wants to be left alone, but Minhyuk isn’t necessarily known for making the smartest decisions and his curiosity is starting to get the better of him. There’s so much about the young Prince he doesn’t know yet, and since he wants to befriend the heir, he might as well start by being friendly if the Prince isn’t going to reach out his hand first.

“Young Prince?” He begins cautiously.

“Yes?” He answers, sounding bored.

“Vampires of the royal line cannot drink human blood, correct?”

“Correct.”

“May I ask why?”

“Our bodies reject it. It’s a biological reaction.”

“Ah, how interesting. I did not know that.”

The Prince doesn’t reply. He stands as still as a statue, gazing stonily at the city below the castle. The city is beginning to fall asleep as the sun rises; one by one, lights in the windows of the mansions go out and candles and lanterns are snuffed. Only very few people walk the streets now, cloaked by black cloths and umbrellas to protect from the harsh sun. 

Again, he feels the spirit of inquiry wash over him. Minhyuk notices his skin start to sting from the proximity of the bright orb and he isn’t even standing in the rays, but Prince Changkyun is in direct sunlight and seems perfectly fine. Is it that the heir is immune to the effects of the sun? Or does he simply not care if it burns him?

“Are—does the sun not burn you?” Minhyuk asks, a little concerned.

“No.”

Minhyuk gapes. “That-that’s incredible. I’d never have guessed that you—”

“Is there something you want?”

The words sound harsh. Startled into silence, Minhyuk backs away a little when the Prince turns to face him. He doesn’t look angry, just a little.. Put out, and a bit curious. Like he’s trying to read Minhyuk but finds himself unable to, and is frustrated by the fact.

“Why, no,” Minhyuk replies cheerily, trying not to let on to how intimidated he is by the Prince’s presence. “I should be asking you that, shouldn’t I?”

The Prince doesn’t answer right away, instead turning his head back to look over his shoulder out the window. Minhyuk peeks over his shoulder to see what he’s looking at. He and Minhyuk watch a vampire drenched in a red velvet cloak scurry through the city hundreds of feet below them, like a little red ant against a sea of stone walkway.

“Tell me what you want,” The Prince says coolly.

Minhyuk bites his lip. It’s obvious the Prince is awaiting an answer, but Minhyuk truly doesn’t know if he should respond, or what reaction the Prince would have. Prince Changkyun shifts, a movement Minhyuk takes to mean impatience, and scrambles to find an appropriate response.

“I’d like to be your friend,” Minhyuk mumbles hopefully.

This seems to get the Prince's attention. He snaps his head around to stare at Minhyuk, dark eyes narrowed in confusion. The Prince appears totally floored, like he can’t believe his own ears, like he can’t even comprehend the meaning and truth behind the words. Minhyuk tries not to squirm under the gaze. 

He’s worried the Prince will snap at him, or yell, or send him away or otherwise lose his temper. But he doesn’t. His expression mellows out and soon it’s back to the blank face Minhyuk is getting used to. The Prince shakes his head gently, biting at the inside of his mouth. 

He then stands up straight, turns to face Minhyuk fully. He wears simple but elegant clothing; a white and grey silk tunic and black trousers, a long, plain navy cloak is draped over his shoulders and flutters around his feet. It seems much too simple for a prince, Minhyuk notes. He’ll just have to add that to the already-growing list of his observations of the Prince.

“I typically go to bed at 10 a.m.,” Prince Changkyun speaks softly, and his gaze falls to the floor. 

“Noted,” Minhyuk says with a smile, feeling his heart rate start to relax. “One of us will be there to help you.”

“You.”

“Um—huh?” Minhyuk blurts eloquently. He feels his cheeks and neck flush in embarrassment, and hopes it’s not visible, but he knows that with his pale skin and dark clothing, the blush will stand out like a candle against a sea of darkness.

“You will come and help me,” Prince Changkyun says.

Minhyuk blinks in surprise, momentarily processing what the Prince had said to him, then swallows and clears his throat. “O-Of course. Do you need anything right now?”

“No. I’ll see you then.”

“Absolutely, your highness.”

Minhyuk bows deeply, then waits in case the heir says something else. When the Prince just stands in silence, he takes it as a dismissal, and hurries down the hall. Kihyun had told him he would help him with the Prince’s laundry, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. 

* * *

His interaction with the Prince replays in his mind, over and over again, as he counts the stairs to determine where he is. He’s come to the conclusion that Prince Changkyun is an enigma, one that he’ll have to work hard, quick, and subtle to decipher. The Prince’s reaction to being told Minhyuk wants to be his friend is what stands out to Minhyuk the most. It’s almost like it was the first time in his entire lifetime, the very first time over the course of ninety years, that someone had ever expressed an interest in becoming close to him.

That makes Minhyuk wonder. He’s growing deeply curious, more inquisitve by the second. Not even a day ago he’d been on his way from Yangjin to the City of Riches to serve the one royal family member no common man had ever seen, and now he’s finally met the Prince and he isn’t at all what Minhyuk expected him to be. Then again, he supposes it’s unfair to have had expectations—the Prince could have turned out to be anything, anything at all.

And he’s an enigma. Minhyuk has seen him all of two times but he’s learned the Prince is quiet, probably terribly shy, to the point of being antisocial. The staff had spoken lowly of the Prince, and Seokjin had been entirely correct when he’d explained that the heir was a challenge to read. But Minhyuk knows, he just knows, that there's more to Changkyun than his poker face and his silence. 

Minhyuk had seen the way his eyes glittered when he looked out at the vast kingdom. He isn't quite sure what the glitter means, but he did see it. He’d seen the body language as Changkyun had returned to whatever he’d been doing at his desk when they’d met for the first time. He had been eager to finish the little project he appeared to be doing. Those two little things tell Minhyuk that the Prince isn’t as stone cold as the palace staff make him out to be. 

He has to try to keep himself from assuming things about the Prince without any real proof. His father always told Minhyuk and his little brother to reserve judgement about anyone. It’s a rule of life that Minhyuk lives by.

“Aish, there you are. Do you want to make us late on our first day?” Kihyun’s irate voice snaps him out of his thoughts. To his surprise, his feet have carried him all the way to the lowest floor of the palace. Kihyun stands in the doorway to the laundry room, his hands on his hips, face twisted into an agitated frown.

Minhyuk smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. I... got lost.”

“No, you didn’t. I know that faraway look in your eyes,” Kihyun sighs, then reaches for the wicker basket of the Prince’s clothing. Minhyuk hands it to him, watches as Kihyun sifts through it all and begins to sort by color and material. “Come on. Tell me what you’re thinking while we do this. We’ve gotten no special instruction on how to do his laundry, so I guess I’ll just... do it the way I always do.”

“Doesn’t it strike you as a little... weird?” Minhyuk asks, hurrying to Kihyun’s side. They walk over to the great table in the middle of the room and Kihyun lays out all of the clothing, pushing half of the tunics and pants to Minhyuk’s end of the table.

“Sort them by color and material,” Kihyun replies, beginning to do so with his own pile. “What’s weird?”

“The fact that we’ve been left with virtually nothing. We don’t have any list of what the Prince likes, doesn’t like, his interests, how he prefers his clothing to be washed. Nothing.”

“Well, we aren’t exactly supposed to be his friends.”

“I disagree,” Minhyuk says. “How can we properly take care of him if we don’t know anything about him? For goodness’s sake, we weren’t left even a schedule behind. I had to find out for myself when he goes to bed.”

Kihyun hums, holding up a silk waistcoat the color of blood to the candlelight to check it for stains. When he finds none, he places it in a pile with other silk shirts, all of equally dark colors. Minhyuk looks down at his own pile of clothing. Most of it is greens and blues, but nothing is lightly colored. 

“Did you happen to run into any of his previous attendants?” Minhyuk asks. He picks up a linen dress shirt the color of pine. It feels and smells expensive; he realizes he’ll need to handle the clothing with care.

“Yes, I did. She was the head attendant,” Kihyun says distractedly, quickly making his way through his pile. He gives Minhyuk an annoyed glare when he notices he’s only admiring the expensive clothing on the table before him. “Min, please.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Minhyuk grins sheepishly and begins to sort by color. He ends up with three piles—dark blues, dark greens, and black. Kihyun has his own hefty pile of maroon, white and grey. Minhyuk wonders if the Prince has any light clothing at all. “Will you at least tell me what she said?”

“Nothing of importance,” Kihyun huffs. “Nothing useful, at least. Or else I would have told you.”

Minhyuk looks up and blinks at him. He can tell that whoever this woman is, she had told Kihyun something of relative importance based on the defensive posture he’s taken on—squared shoulders, lips pressed together. It’s clear Minhyuk won’t be able to drag it out of him. When Kihyun gets like this, it means he’s done talking. Kihyun is easier to read than he thinks he is.

“Did you know something?” Minhyuk changes course, brightening when he remembers his conversation with the Prince.

“Hm?” Kihyun hums, pushing more clothing, a bundle of fabric all various shades of dark blue, across the table in Minhyuk’s direction. 

“Members of the royal family cannot ingest human blood,” Minhyuk talks rapidly, digging into the pile of clothing. Most of it’s embroidered or otherwise made of priceless fabric. He adds the majority of the tops to the pile that will require gentle hand washing. 

“Seokjin mentioned that. Is that true?”

“It is! Their bodies reject it. And, they’re immune to the effects of the sun!”

Kihyun hums dismissively again, then pauses. Then he looks up at Minhyuk, a dark purple waistcoat pinched in between his fingers, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

“Really?” he asks incredulously.

“Yes!” Minhyuk nods like a jumpy child.

Kihyun makes another bemused noise and holds the shirt up to determine its material. “That’s... really neat, actually.”

“Isn’t it?” Minhyuk grins excitedly, inexplicably pleased with himself. 

He finishes up sorting the clothing pile, surveying the piles he’d been left with. One pile is of darkly colored, exquisite material—velvet, silk, wool—that will need to be hand washed with utmost care. The second pile is smaller than the other two; it contains the three or so shirts with embroidered patterns along the sleeves and busts. The third pile contains all the clothing that will survive a machine wash—tunics made of cotton, denim, and linen.

“How did you find out?” Kihyun asks, grunting as he reaches across the table for Minhyuk’s pile of machine-washable clothing. 

Kihyun adds the clothes to his own pile, sweeps it all into the wicker basket and turns away from the table, walking towards one of two washing machines by the wall. The washing machines are heavy, lumbering things. Lidded buckets filled with warm water and soap, with a lever for stirring and swirling the clothing in the sudsy water and a roller to squeeze the water from the cleaned clothes. Once washed and pressed, they’ll be hung in the daylight to dry.

“Oh, the Prince told me.” Minhyuk replies casually.

Kihyun freezes, then whips around to face him, eyes blown wide with disbelief. “Sorry, what?”

Minhyuk bites back a grin as he nodded. “He told me.”

“ _He_ told you?”

“Well, I asked him.”

“You _asked_ the Prince if he could withstand sunlight.” Kihyun sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Well.. yes. He wasn’t cruel, if that’s what you’re worried about. I suppose he wasn’t the kindest about it either, but at least he answered my question.”

“ _You_. Asked the _Prince_. About being part of the royal lineage.” Kihyun repeats slowly. “You had a _conversation_ with him?

“Yes, Ki. I just explained that.”

“Min, don’t you—” Kihyun sucks in an exasperated breath. “Was it really a conversation? Or were you asking questions and he answered them?”

“It was a conversation, I think,” Minhyuk mumbles. Now he’s beginning to doubt himself. Kihyun’s reaction has thrown him off. He’d expected him to be excited, but he seems... nervous. “In addition to answering my questions he told me he gets ready for bed at 10 a.m. He also told me that I was to be the one to help him.”

Kihyun stares at Minhyuk as if he’s just been struck by lightning.

“What’s happening at 10 a.m.?” Hyungwon’s voice calls from the doorway, turning their attention to him. The younger vampire hobbles into the washroom, struggling to carry two full buckets of warm water. Minhyuk is impressed; the boy has sticks for arms. It can’t be easy for him to carry those buckets. Hyungwon sighs dramatically in relief as he sets them on the ground, heavy _thunks_ echoing in the small room as a little water sloshes gently over the rims and onto the floor. Kihyun tuts in disapproval, but Hyungwon either doesn’t notice or ignores him.

“The Prince told Minhyuk-ah to help him get ready for bed at 10 a.m.,” Kihyun explains, still sounding as though he himself is struggling to believe it.

Hyungwon stands up fully, stretching his back. His eyes are wide as he makes eye contact with Kihyun, then his gaze drifts to the clock hanging above one of the linen closets. Minhyuk follows his line of sight, then gasps in horror.

_9:54 a.m.!_

“When did it get so late?” Minhyuk jumps to his feet. 

“You’d better hurry,” Kihyun warns.

And Minhyuk takes off.

* * *

He makes it to the Prince’s bedroom not a moment too soon and knocks four times on the door, like he’d seen Seokjin do. There’s a hesitant pause, and then the Prince’s voice floats through the heavy door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Minhyuk, your highness,” Minhyuk is impressed with himself for replying so calmly, like he’s not breathless from sprinting up four flights of stairs.

“Enter.”

Minhyuk quietly opens the door and slips inside. He bows deeply upon entering and waits until the Prince allows him to stand back up. He looks around once he’s upright again.

The room is incredibly grand. A few paces away from the door is a set of three steps that lead to the second, upper half of the room. The lower half has been transformed into a study-like area, with gaping, overly-full bookshelves that yawn toward the wedding cake of a ceiling and a dark mahogany desk pushed against the wall under a set of large windows. A large plush chair, deep blue, as well as a matching ottoman are adjacent from the desk, placed masterfully under a pair of magnificent sconces that burn bright, illuminating the dark room. Velvety curtains the color of blood flank every window and all the way across the room, on the upper half of the room, is a canopy bed bigger than any bed Minhyuk has ever seen. The comforter, a plain shade of grey, adorned with red embroidery, covers the bed like a thick layer of frosting on the sweetest cake ever made. A large rectangular carpet, finished with impeccable designs in golds and reds and blacks, has been rolled across the wood floor. Two doors line the leftmost wall—the bathroom and the closet, Minhyuk guesses based on what he can see—and a vanity-type desk is situated in between the two doors. Priceless necklaces and earrings hang from hooks around the mirror. A tall, dark, wood dresser is pressed against the rightmost wall.

The Prince himself stands in the center of the upper half of the room, already unbuttoning his shirt—a lovely grey and white tunic—with his back to Minhyuk. There’s books and papers scattered on the floor around him like a ring of study materials.

“Good morning, your highness,” Minhyuk says cheerily as he approaches.

Prince Changkyun glances at him wordlessly as he pulls his shirt off. Minhyuk holds his hands out for it and Changkyun lays the shirt, made of in his hands. 

“The changing screen is in the closet,” the Prince mumbles. “Please don’t step on any of the books.”

Picking his way around the books strewn about the floor with extra care, Minhyuk hurries into the closet and tugs on the string hanging from the ceiling. A lantern flickers to life, exposing the expansive closet and all the clothes in it. He studies the long closet as intently as he can as he fishes around for the changing screen, which is folded up next to the door. He notes that the closet is sorted by color and by relevance; in rainbow order, more casual shirts and pants are closer to the front, and the further his eyes trail along the rows of hangers, the fancier everything gets. He takes the time to hang up the grey-white tunic the Prince had taken off before he turns the light off, hurrying to set up the changing screen. Prince Changkyun waits patiently on his bed, his eyes faraway, as if he’s lost in thought.

Minhyuk quickly unfolds the screen and watches as Prince Changkyun gets up and wanders behind it. 

“Where is your sleepwear, Your Highness?” Minhyuk inquires. 

“On the dresser.”

Minhyuk glances behind him; there’s a folded pair of silk pajamas on the surface of the dresser. He retrieves them briskly, handing the pajama top to Prince Changkyun over the top of the screen as the Prince drapes his trousers along the rim. Minhyuk pulls them down, then gives the pajama bottoms to him, and returns to the closet to hang up the simple black pants. Once he returns, Prince Changkyun is dressed in the pajamas and walking towards the bathroom.

“I’ll brush my teeth,” He says passively over his shoulder. 

Minhyuk nods and makes quick work of folding the screen back up and placing it and the Prince’s shoes in the closet. When he goes back into the bedroom he can hear the sink running through the closed bathroom door and walks around the room, still avoiding the mess of paper and books, to pull the drapes on every window closed and blow out every candle. When he approaches the desk in the study area, he has to go around both sides of the long desk to fully close the drapes. He glances down at the desk surface and is surprised to find a long paper map stretched out across most of the surface. Pens and books and jars of ink lay scattered on the desk. Lines and circles and stars and other shapes have been drawn onto the paper, which, Minhyuk realizes after a moment’s consideration, is a map of the island of the Vampire Kingdom. He’s momentarily frozen, staring in wonder at the map and all the markings on it. 

He flinches out of his stupor, however, when he hears the water in the bathroom shut off, and he hurriedly reaches up to pull the other curtain closed. His skin prickles in agitation from the brief sun exposure and he marvels at the idea of Changkyun being able to withstand it. 

He hurries up the steps towards the bed and is just begun pulling the blankets, which he realizes a little too late are incredibly heavy, away from the headboard when the Prince exits the bathroom. He glances around the darkened bedroom, seemingly surprised.

“You work quickly,” he says monotonously. His tone of voice doesn't sound impressed, unlike his words.

Minhyuk smiles uneasily, unsure if it’s a compliment or not, and waits for the Prince to climb into the bed. To his surprise, the Prince walks away from the bed and toward the study, down the steps and into the small space. He watches as the Prince takes a good five minutes to skim both bookshelves from top to bottom. Occasionally Prince Changkyun will reach up to take a book, then pause, and let his hand fall back down to his side. Finally he decides on a novel, a thick book with a brown cover and yellowed pages, but instead of heading to bed with it, he begins to pace the study, flipping intermittently through the book.

“You’re watching my every move,” he says suddenly, and it takes Minhyuk a second to register that he's spoken to him.

“I apologize for making you uncomfortable. I, uh—I’m afraid I don’t know your before-bed routine, highness,” Minhyuk replies with a nervous laugh.

“I don’t really have one. I’m not going to bed just yet." Prince Changkyun says distractedly, and it strikes Minhyuk then that it’s questionable whether or not the Prince sleeps enough. He probably doesn’t, come to think of it. 

“What are you reading?” Minhyuk asks curiously.

The question seems to catch Prince Changkyun off guard, for he pauses and then looks up at Minhyuk, puzzled.

“It’s Dostoyevsky,” Prince Changkyun replies, sounding like he doesn’t expect Minhyuk to know who that is.

“Ah! Which one?” Minhyuk brightens. 

He doesn’t know a lot about Dostoyevsky—a human novelist, dead now—but he does recall that his father was quite a fan of his work. As a child, he’d sometimes begged his father to let him borrow one of the novels in their family study, but his father was always hesitant to let him read the books because it took so much time and effort to get them. Now that he’s older, Minhyuk respects this. While humans can’t cross the portal into the Supernatural Realm, Supernaturals can go to the human universe, but they can’t stay very long. The air pressure and other environmental factors make it impossible for humans to last more than a few hours in the Supernatural Realm, and the most any Supernatural being can survive in the human universe was three days at best. Journeying to the human universe takes a lot out of any Supernatural, regardless of their race, and Minhyuk knows it wasn’t his father’s favorite thing to do. Eventually he stopped asking to see whatever his father would bring back from the human universe.

“It’s his novel _The Idiot_. You... know Dostoyevsky?” Prince Changkyun blinks in surprise.

“Yes! Well, I’ve never read his work, but my father is a great fan.” Minhyuk chatters. “He brings his new works back from the human universe routinely. Wonderful work, I’ve gathered.”

“Dostoyevsky is dead,” the Prince says blankly.

“Oh, I know. A few years ago, yes?” Minhyuk says. “Tragic, really. He was magnificent, from what I’ve heard. I know he—”

“You talk a lot.”

“Oh—my apologies.” Minhyuk clamps his mouth shut, feeling his cheeks burn.

“No, it’s...” Prince Changkyun closes the book and trails off. He pauses, his expression a little uncomfortable. “You, uh, can go now.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” 

He hurries to leave the Prince to his Dostoyevsky novel, but pauses in the doorway. Prince Changkyun watches him, an eyebrow slightly raised.

“What time shall we be here for breakfast?” he asks softly, giving the Prince a gentle smile.

The Prince stares in blank contemplation for a moment.

“I’m usually awake by 9 p.m.,” he says eventually. Minhyuk dips his head in acknowledgement.

“Of course, your highness.” he bows deeply. “Any requests for breakfast?

Again, Prince Changkyun looks floored by the question. As if no one has ever bothered to ask him about his preferences, his tastes, his routines. 

“Ehm, bacon,” he replies awkwardly. “And pig blood.”

Minhyuk smiles warmly. “Of course, your highness. I’ll alert the kitchens immediately. Good morning, Prince. Sleep well.”

“Ah, um, yes,” Prince Changkyun stutters, still staring at Minhyuk like he’s a puzzle that can’t be solved. “You... you too.”

Bowing once more and shutting the door silently behind him, Minhyuk walks away from the bedroom with a smile on his face.

* * *

“I like him,” Minhyuk announces cheerfully, sauntering into their shared bedroom. 

He’d just returned from the kitchens, where he’d told the head chef and Seokjin what the Prince requested for breakfast the next evening. The head chef, a tiny man by the name of Kyunsoo, had given him a weird look in response to Minhyuk relaying the Prince’s request. When he’d asked Seokjin about it, Seokjin had explained that the Prince hardly ever makes meal requests. According to the head attendant, it’s rare for any of the cooking staff to hear from Prince Changkyun; there’s simply what he can ingest and what he cannot. It’s odd to Minhyuk.

Kihyun, perched on his bed already in his sleepwear, is rubbing lotion on his skin to prevent damage from the sun exposure he’d faced while doing the laundry. Hyungwon is already under the covers of his bed, a book unfolded between his hands. They both look up in surprise as Minhyuk returns and bounces over to his dresser to begin getting ready for bed.

“Who?” Hyungwon asks.

“The Prince, of course,” Minhyuk replies easily. “I like him.”

“Minhyuk-ah,” Kihyun says tiredly. “I... I think you need to stop thinking about this as a permanent job. The longest anyone has ever lasted here is two decades.”

“I want to last longer,” Minhyuk counters. “I’ve already told you, I’ll befriend him.”

“You wanting to befriend him and you actually doing so are two different things entirely,” Kihyun sounds exasperated. “You have to remember this really.. Isn’t about us. If he’s displeased or finds you annoying, then we’re out of here. It isn’t about what we want.”

Minhyuk pauses, good mood dissipating. Kihyun makes an excellent point. But what he’s seen that day..

“Kihyun..” Minhyuk sighs, delicately pulling off his tunic. “I... I think he’s hurting. I think he needs a friend.”

Kihyun stays silent, but now Minhyuk has gotten Hyungwon’s full attention. The youngest of the three has placed his book on his bedside table and is watching the conversation like a tennis match. He keeps opening his mouth, like he wants to say something, but always seems to change his mind at the last moment.

“What do you mean, he needs a friend?” Kihyun murmurs.

“Earlier today, when I talked to him about being immune to the sun and whatnot—”

“He’s immune to the sun?” Hyungwon interrupts, gaping. Kihyun nods at him, and Hyungwon’s eyes widen in amazement.

“—I told him I wanted to be his friend.”

“Why would you say something like that?” Kihyun snaps, for the first time sounding genuinely frustrated. “It’s day one, Minhyuk. It’s not about what we want!”

“Then why are you here?” Minhyuk shoots back. “I accepted this job because I wanted the money and the experience but how am I supposed to do my job correctly if he doesn’t even like me?”

“He won’t like you if you keep trying to interact when he clearly doesn’t have any interest in us!”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t,” Kihyun agrees quietly after a moment of hushed consideration.

“That’s exactly my point! We don’t know anything about him,” Minhyuk explains, exasperated and confused as to why Kihyun is so upset. “If I hadn’t told you he can’t ingest human blood then we might have been fired for trying to give it to him. We only learn about him if we talk to him, because clearly, the other staff in this palace don’t know enough about him either. And he might seem standoffish and cold but he was willing to tell me what he wants for breakfast tomorrow evening and he was willing to hear me tell him that I want to be his friend. I wouldn’t have mentioned that if he hadn’t asked me!”

“He asked you what you wanted?” Hyungwon pipes up again, brows furrowed.

“Yes! He asked me, earlier, if there was something I wanted. And I told him exactly that. Do you think I’m a thoughtless child, Kihyun?” Minhyuk throws his hands up. “If the Prince were a selfish prick, I might agree with you about keeping our heads down and our mouths shut. But Prince Changkyun is kind and I know that there’s more to him than what we can see. How can you tell me this job is temporary and then yell at me for trying to raise our chances of staying? I’d rather lose my job trying to find out what he likes than lose my job giving him something he doesn’t like. If he wants us to shut up, I’m sure he’ll let us know. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

“I don’t think the royal family members are concerned about being fair,” Kihyun retorts. “If they were worried about fairness, people in Tansu wouldn’t be starving.”

Hyungwon flinches. Minhyuk groans internally. Kihyun had made another good point but he’d done it at the expense of their new friend, and Minhyuk shoots him a furious look. 

“I’m sorry, Hyungwon-ah,” Kihyun sighs. 

“You’re not wrong,” Hyungwon whispers. “You’re not.”

“Look. Tomorrow is a new night,” Minhyuk says, slipping his sleep shirt over his head. “Maybe if we’re lucky he’ll talk to us more. And if he doesn’t, there’s other opportunities. He was actually quite passive tonight. It’s not like he hates us, Ki. He barely knows us.”

“I’m trying to say that that doesn’t matter,” Kihyun shakes his head. “I’m not saying he hates us. I’m saying that his opinion can change for no reason. He’s not expected to give us a reason.”

“Well if we’re just going to end up fired sooner or later then we should try to make the most of it, right?” Minhyuk puts his hands on his hips. “Who knows. Maybe we’ll make friends out of him. Maybe we won’t. Either way, at least we can say we tried.”

“Don’t you have any desire to protect yourself? Or us?” Kihyun glances up. “One wrong move and he might try to kill you.”

“He’s not the King, Kihyun.”

“You three, be silent!” 

Seokjin’s voice startles all three of them. Minhyuk whips around to see the attendant standing in the doorway, face twisted in frustration. 

“Seokjin-ssi,” Kihyun gasps as he and Hyungwon hurry to get to their feet. They bow at the older vampire, who sweeps an exasperated gaze around them.

“I had hoped you’d get along because you know each other. Look,” Seokjin rubs the bridge of his nose. “I don’t care if you argue but do it _quietly_. Kihyun-ssi is right; you’re at the mercy of the monarchs here. Try not to say or do anything that will get you fired, or worse. I think trying to be friends with the Prince is a waste of time, Minhyuk. I’ve seen it over and over and over again. You can discuss this more if you’d like but be _subtle_ about it, for goodness’ sake.”

“We’re sorry, Seokjin-ssi.” Minhyuk says honestly.

“I know. But it really is survival of the fittest in this palace,” Seokjin murmurs. “I like the three of you. Try to stick around, okay? Go to bed, you three. I’ll see you in the evening.”

The head attendant leaves after that, vanishing into thin air as he was prone to doing. Minhyuk thinks it’s incredible he can do that; only very old, very experienced vampires have that particular ability. It comes with age. He’d only ever seen his grandparents do it. It’s just another testimony to how experienced Seokjin is.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you,” Minhyuk turns his attention to Kihyun, who’s perched on his bed, wringing his hands.

“I’m sorry, too,” Kihyun replies quietly. “You didn’t deserve that. I admire your dedication to the Prince. We’ve known him for a day and you already care about him. Why is that?”

“I have a lot of love to give,” Minhyuk smiles as he clambers into his bed. Kihyun gives him a tired smile in return, but Minhyuk can see traces of fondness in the lines in his face.

That’s where Minhyuk and Kihyun are very different. Kihyun is careful with his affection and thinks before he acts; Minhyuk is touchy, and gets attached easily. Instead of dwelling on this stark difference in their personalities, Minhyuk likes to think it makes them a good pair. Kihyun can keep Minhyuk from behaving impulsively, and Minhyuk encourages Kihyun to live a little.

He glances over at Hyungwon, who had silently gotten into bed and turned away from them as soon as Seokjin disappeared. Minhyuk bites his lip as he stares at Hyungwon’s back, wondering. How can he include Hyungwon in their friendship? 

Kihyun blows the candle out, enveloping the room in darkness. Only a tiny sliver of sunlight peeks through the thick, dark curtains that hide the windows. Minhyuk doesn’t realize how exhausted he is until he falls asleep in minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case it's unclear, every 5 years for a Supernatural is equivalent to 1 year for a human. For example, a 25 year old human is physically the same age as a 125 year old vampire. However, time passes the same: a vampire ages physically once every 5 years, but has a birthday every year. So a vampire who is 113 has been around for 113 years but is only physically 22 years old. I'm sorry if that doesn't make sense, I really struggled to figure out immortality for this story.


	2. Chapter 2: Little Interactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyungwon, Minhyuk, and Kihyun struggle in their endeavors to get closer to the Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter ahead; 17.3k words, woohoo! Happy fathers day haha I hope you're all doing well.  
> Also, my inspiration for Ganghae Palace is Dover Castle in England. If you google pictures of it, it'll give you an idea of how the castle is structured. Just imagine a forest to the left of the palace and a body of water to the right.

**Chapter 2: Little Interactions**

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. Late June. 1889._

The sky opens the minute Hyungwon wakes up in the evening two nights after their first night in the palace. Rain splattering on the glass window above his head is the very first thing he registers, even before he can force his eyes open. It takes him a second to remember where he is, but soon he recognizes the stale, crinkly feeling of the comforter draped over his body. He’s slowly getting used to waking up this way.

“Yah, Hyungwon-ah. Wake up.”

He turns over in bed at the sound of Kihyun’s voice. Kihyun and Minhyuk are both already awake. Well, Kihyun is awake. Minhyuk is sitting upright in bed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, and he seems to be mostly asleep still.

“What time is it?” Hyungwon hears himself ask, struggling to sit up fully. He blinks blearily, looking around the room. The curtains are still pulled across the windows, but orange sunlight streaks through gaps in the thick fabric and when he peeks, he can see the bright silhouette of the sun setting behind a dark storm cloud. He sighs; it’s still light outside, despite the rain. It must be early.

“6:34 p.m.,” Kihyun replies. “I’ve been trying to wake you up for five minutes.”

“Sorry,” Hyungwon apologizes half-heartedly, still balancing precariously on the border between awake and asleep. “I’m a heavy sleeper.”

“It’s okay. I am, too,” Minhyuk sighs, clambering out of bed. “At least we have Kihyun here to keep us in line.”

“That’s right. Both of you, get up,” Kihyun nags. 

Hyungwon looks at him. To his surprise, he’s already bathed and is getting dressed as he speaks. He has to admit, Kihyun cleans up nicely without really trying. His hair, thick and brown, looks styled even when it’s not. He’s very handsome. Minhyuk is, too. Hyungwon feels slightly out of place among them; they’re both very good looking. He’s always felt awkward in his own body. He’s tall, and never had enough food to properly fill himself out. He’s been stuck with angular limbs and sunken cheeks for decades.

“Do you want to take a bath first, Hyungwon-ah?” Minhyuk chirps. “Normally I’d take it first anyway, but you seem like you could use the wake up.” 

“Uh, it’s okay. You can take it first, hyung.” Hyungwon replies awkwardly. He does want to bathe first, but he’s not sure he should. Despite his childish attitude, Minhyuk is still older than him. Hyungwon was always taught to give respect to those born before him. 

“You sure?” Minhyuk raises an eyebrow. “This is a one time offer, kid.”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Hyungwon waves at him. He wants to brush his teeth anyway.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Minhyuk waltzes over to the conjoined bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

“Be fast, Minhyuk,” Kihyun calls. “Don’t let your fingers prune. We’re on duty at 8 p.m. Oh, Hyungwon, I should mention, you’re the one to take the Prince’s breakfast to him today. You’ll need to head to the kitchen around nine to get his breakfast.”

Hyungwon nods, combing a hand through his mop of black hair. It’s greasy and lank; he can’t wait to wash it. Kihyun eyes him wearily.

“Would you be willing to let me give you a haircut?” He asks, biting his lip. He picks up the matches on the side table next to his bed and pulls out one of the small sticks. “Just a trim. Your hair is awfully long.”

“I don’t mind,” Hyungwon says around a yawn. He’s grateful Kihyun asked. His hair is getting too long to be manageable and he hadn’t been able to afford getting it cut before he was meant to go to the palace. 

Kihyun strikes one of the matches, then turns to the candelabra mounted on the wall between his bed and Minhyuk’s.

“When we have a break later tonight, come find me. I’ll cut it just enough to get it out of your eyes,” Kihyun says, carefully lighting each candlestick on the sconce.

“Thank you, hyung,” Hyungwon murmurs. 

Kihyun makes a noise in the back of his throat that Hyungwon guesses is supposed to mean ‘you’re welcome.’ Hyungwon likes Minhyuk and Kihyun. They’re both capable and enthusiastic in their own ways, but what really stands out to Hyungwon is that they treat themselves, each other and himself with kindness and respect. It’s pleasant to be spoken to like his opinion matters, like _he_ matters. He’s apprehensive to get used to it, though, because it’s like everything else. It’s temporary.

As Hyungwon waits for Minhyuk to finish up his bath, he watches Kihyun flit about the room and light every candle in sight. The rain is darkening the setting sun, and the candles bathe the small room in a dark yellow light, and Hyungwon can feel his body waking up. Even though the moon isn’t quite in the sky yet, he can already feel its light start to shower upon the Kingdom, just like the rain. The moon is powerful to vampires in a way that the sun is to humans; it gives off energy and a feeling of warmth and strength. Hyungwon lets himself relish in it; these nights, he’s too skinny to feel healthy most of the time. The moon at least helps him feel some semblance of normal.

Minhyuk takes longer than Hyungwon expected him to in the bath, which turns out to be okay because Hyungwon manages to get something to eat and actually take his time and enjoy it. He’s impressed with what Kihyun presents him with—it’s cinnamon dakjuk with a cup of chicken blood on the side. Kihyun made it himself and it tastes absolutely heavenly, and Kihyun made so much of it Hyungwon can’t eat more than one bowl because it’s so much. 

“Hyung, this is so good,” He can’t resist complimenting Kihyun as he puts his spoon down. Kihyun is an excellent chef; he should know it.

“Thank you. Do you want more? You didn’t eat a lot.” Kihyun says, glancing back and forth at the empty bowl and Hyungwon’s eyes.

He shakes his head and drinks from the cup instead, letting himself relish in the taste of the blood on his tongue and the energized feeling it gives him. It’s day four of his job in the palace, but it’s also the second evening in a row he’s gotten to have blood with his breakfast and he’s struggling to not get used to it. He’s so used to only having cold meat and cheese for breakfast; his family could only afford to get any kind of blood on only very special occasions, like his birthday. True animal blood, rich with nutrients, is hard to come by in Tansu. Consuming blood is how vampires get their true strength, body mass, and energy. It’s no wonder citizens in Tansu look like skeletons. He’s no different.

“You’re too thin,” Kihyun tuts. “Why not eat more?”

He’s extremely tempted to take Kihyun’s offer, but he’s worried if he eats more he’ll make himself sick. Kihyun is right; by their standards, he didn’t eat a lot. But he’s full. His body isn’t used to having enough.

“The blood is fine.” Hyungwon says, waving him off.

“There will always be some down here. You can get blood any time. I’ll only cook for you sometimes.”

Somehow this sounds like a lie, but Hyungwon is blindsided by the idea of there always being blood available for consumption. He gawks at Kihyun, who stares right back.

“Wait, what? Like, real blood? Animal and human?”

“Well, I don’t know about human, but there’s chicken, pig, cow, and horse down here. You can have some whenever.” Kihyun’s voice sounds a little sad. “Don’t be afraid to eat, okay?”

Hyungwon nods absently, his mind reeling. He’ll always be able to have blood here. _Real_ animal blood. At _any_ time. That sounds... unreal.

Oh, he really could get used to this. But he shouldn’t. He stops himself from thinking that way before he can get carried away. 

Minhyuk takes forever. Hyungwon starts to regret letting him go first. Not only does Hyungwon get to eat real food and drink real blood, he also has time to brush his teeth, because Minhyuk is _still_ in the bathroom when he finishes his meal. Hyungwon is just rinsing his mouth, thinking dejectedly that he may not get to take a bath at all, when Minhyuk finally exits the bathroom, looking much more awake and refreshed. Kihyun immediately pounces on him, the irritation in his voice clear as night as he rips Minhyuk a new one. Hyungwon slips from the room quickly, not eager to get caught up in the imminent argument, and quickly draws himself a bath. 

The water is… nice. It’s not murky, or freezing cold, like it would be at home. Variously shaped and sized bottles of shampoos, conditioners, and shower gels line the edge of the tub. He takes the time to smell each bottle, even though he’s smelled them before. He knows whatever he puts in his hair won’t get rid of the vanilla smell he carries, but he’s never experienced anything quite like this.

He can’t get used to it.

He bathes quickly, and when he gets out and dries himself off, he’s again momentarily stunned by the softness of the towel left for him on the shelf above the tub. It probably isn’t as soft as he thinks it is, but to him, anything is better than the towels he’d had to use at home. He dries himself off and begins to dress, still somewhat unconvinced that this, everything he’s experiencing, is real.

It’s his second bath in the palace and it’s the first time he can remember feeling genuinely clean. He’d tried a new shampoo and conditioner combination; it’s supposed to be volumizing and he’s excited to see what his hair will look like when it’s dry. He combs through the damp black locks with his fingers, struggling to keep his bangs, long and fuzzy with split ends, out of his face. Eventually he gives up trying.

He leaves the bathroom feeling new. It’s a great feeling, he decides. But it’s not permanent. And he can’t trick himself into believing that it is.

“See? Hyungwon-ah can take a bath and get dressed in a normal amount of time. Why can’t you?” Kihyun is saying as Hyungwon steps out of the washroom. 

Minhyuk clearly isn’t even listening, too preoccupied with trying to fasten the lace on the sleeves of his tunic, but Kihyun keeps nagging anyway. Hyungwon eventually tunes him out as well. He glances at the clock. 7:51 p.m. 

After slipping into his shoes, he gives himself a once over in the mirror. He’ll admit, any day of the week and twice on Sunday, that Minhyuk and Kihyun look incredible in their attendant uniforms. Despite both of them being shorter than him, they have more body mass, and fill out their uniforms nicely, not to mention they both have thicker and fluffier hair that gives them an all-around healthy appeal. When Hyungwok looks at himself in the uniform, it just looks... wrong. The outfit is expensive, probably the priciest thing he’s ever worn in his life, and he’s used to wearing plain shirts and pants. He’s a beanpole, and the uniform just hangs off of his thin frame. With his bony shoulders, wiry arms, and knobbly knees, he can’t help but hate himself in it.

“You look good, Hyungwon-ah,” Kihyun calls over his shoulder. He’s not looking at Hyungwon, but the words make Hyungwon’s chest warm anyway.

“Thank you, hyung,” Hyungwon murmurs back. Kihyun tosses a smile in his direction.

“You’ll do great today!” Minhyuk says warmly, eyes gleaming with encouragement. It takes Hyungwon a moment to register that Minhyuk is talking to him. 

The words surprise him, in a pleasant way. He’s not often told things like that. Hyungwon doesn’t have a lot of talents. He grew up with barely enough food on the table his entire life and he doesn’t know the first thing about being an attendant to someone as high class as the Prince. He’s not confident in himself but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, if he can prove himself useful to Prince Changkyun, he’ll feel something other than disappointment in himself.

* * *

At 8:55 p.m., after almost an hour of cleaning the dining hall and the kitchens, Hyungwon hurries into the very back room of the kitchen where he’s told Kyungsoo, the head chef, will have the Prince’s breakfast ready. It looks delicious, Hyungwon notes as he approaches it, giving a respectful nod to the head chef. Kyungsoo has prepared bacon and ham with a side of garnished scrambled eggs and a glass of animal blood that Hyungwon can’t recognize by its smell. 

“What kind of blood is this?” He asks.

Kyungsoo gives him a weird look. “It’s pig blood. You’ve never...”

He trails off. Hyungwon knows what he would have said. Pig blood; one of the most common blood types there is. He’s never tasted it before. His family has never been able to afford it.

“Be timely,” Kyungsoo advises him as he gingerly picks up the gold-plated tray with the delicious food. “It’s not often the Prince makes requests.”

“It isn’t?” Hyungwon asks distractedly, focusing solely on making sure nothing on the tray spills or falls over.

“No,” Kyungsoo shakes his head. “We almost never hear from him.”

This surprises Hyungwon, but he’s not sure why. While in the bath, he’d heard Minhyuk explaining to Kihyun that the Prince had made another breakfast request similar to the one he’d made their first night in the castle. It’s obvious the Prince is not one for social interaction; he guesses it sort of makes sense even the kitchens don’t often get requests. Either the Prince is very humble or he simply doesn’t care what Kyungsoo cooks for him.

He ponders this the entire way up the four flights of stairs to get to the Prince’s hallway, and when he finally stops outside the Prince’s door, the clock in the hallway reads 9:01 p.m. He chews on his bottom lip as he shifts the heavy tray into one arm to knock firmly four times on the door.

There’s no response. He tries again with the same result, and again, and then a fourth time.

He’s trying not to panic. What’s he supposed to do now? He can’t just leave the food out on the table by the door, it will get cold. He’s gotten no instruction on what to do in this situation; nobody has told him whether or not he can enter the room if there’s no response. He takes a stabilizing breath to try to rationalize his thoughts before he can get carried away. Maybe the Prince is still sleeping. He.. he can deal with that. 

He puts his hand on the door and steps inside.

He braces himself to be shouted at for entering without permission, but all he gets is silence.

The room is empty. 

He walks further into the room, wondering if maybe the Prince is taking a bath or getting dressed. He can’t hear anything from either the bathroom or the closet, though, so that rules out those options. He surveys the room as he approaches the bed. The bed is made and everything else looks untouched. Confused, Hyungwon sets the tray down on the dresser against the wall.

For a minute, he just stands there blankly. There’s no sign of life in the room. He glances at the food, wondering what he’s supposed to do. He doesn’t know where the Prince is, or what he’s doing, which terrifies him more than the idea of the food going cold. The cleanliness of the room further confuses him; did the Prince do this himself, or did someone else tidy up? The room looks nothing like it had yesterday, when Hyungwon had delivered the Prince his lunch. The map of the Kingdom that used to lay across his desk is no longer there, and all the books and pens and papers that had been littered around the room the day before have been picked up and shelved again, making the already-full bookshelves look overstuffed and swollen. It’s as if the Prince has just vanished, like he doesn’t exist at all. 

He suddenly remembers Seokjin mentioning that if there’s ever a time they can’t find the Prince, it’s likely he’s in the gardens or the catacombs, which is supposed to mean he wants to be alone. He starts to calm down a little. It brings Hyungwon some comfort to assume that the Prince is pacing the catacombs and not actually away from the palace. He glances out one of the windows; it looks like the rain is picking up. He hopes the Prince isn’t outside in that mess. Regardless, he needs to find Prince Changkyun.

And that’s how he treks through the entire castle to get all the way to the basement, drop off the tray of cooling food, search every nook and cranny in the dark catacombs only to find them deserted, then make his way back up to ground level to search the gardens. In between leaving the catacombs and going into the gardens, he checks in with Seokjin the kitchens, briefly explaining to Kyungsoo and Seokjin the situation. He misses the look Seokjin and Kyungsoo share as he leaves the kitchens.

He sighs in disappointment when he realizes he can’t see the entire garden from the windows flanking the giant door, and begrudgingly opts to go outside. Immediately upon stepping out of the palace, he’s momentarily frozen in place as the moon’s light showers down on him. A jolt like electricity passes through his body and spreads through his limbs, tingling as it shoots down his arms and legs to the very tips of his toes and fingers. He lets himself relish in it for a moment, but then hurries under the gazebo nearby as the rain falls harder. He’s nearly drenched by the time he reaches the little platform and he blinks rain from his eyes as he looks around, scanning the gardens for any sign of movement. 

There isn’t any. The garden isn’t very big, and it could be that the rain is making it harder for him to see, but it’s very unlikely. He’s always had good night vision, and the only movement he can see are vines and flowers and leaves dancing in the rain. He sighs, trying not to feel frustrated. He doesn’t want to trek through the entire palace to find the Prince, but he feels like he’s been forced into a game of hide-and-seek. 

He runs across the gardens to get back inside and shakes rain from his hair once he’s safely at the threshold. He wipes his shoes and then steps into the indoor slippers he left at the doorway. The rain has turned heavy and a second later, the sky rumbles. It seems a thunderstorm will pass through, he notes, looking up at the dark, cloudy sky. 

He finds Seokjin in the lowermost level of the palace with Jungkook, the stable boy, at his side. Hyungwon hasn’t talked to Jungkook much, but he knows he’s a sweet kid, only a little younger than the Prince. They both look up as Hyungwon approaches and Seokjin’s expression turns horrified at the sight of him.

“You’re soaked!” he exclaims.

Hyungwon nods, out of breath. “I can’t find him.”

“Who?” Jungkook asks, perplexed. 

“The Prince,” Hyungwon breathes. “I looked everywhere. His room, the catacombs, the gardens—that’s why I’m all wet—and I can’t find him anywhere. His breakfast is all cold now, and he—”

“You’re worried about his breakfast?” Seokjin says sympathetically, and places a steadying hand on Hyungwon’s shoulder. “If he doesn’t want it, then it’s—”

“No, it’s not about his breakfast anymore,” Hyungwon sighs in agitation. “It’s about the fact that I’ve wandered around the entire palace and still can’t find him. It’s… it’s like he’s not even here.”

“Try not to worry about it, Hyungwon-ah,” Seokjin soothes, sounding a little tired. “He disappears like this occasionally. You might not see him at all today, but he’ll show up at some point.”

And just like Seokjin says, Changkyun is nowhere to be found the entire day. Hyungwon volunteers to take his lunch to his room around 1 am and the Prince still isn’t there. Trying not to feel frustrated, he leaves the tray on the table outside the room and storms off to occupy himself. Because the Prince isn’t around, Seokjin has him, Kihyun and Minhyuk help the other cleaning and cooking staff with general upkeep. In between little chores Seokjin assigns for him, like sweep the Prince’s hallway and dust the paintings in the library, Hyungwon keeps looking for the Prince. He’s painfully curious now, and still a little freaked out, not to mention a bit irritated. Did Changkyun have the ability to turn invisible? Was this a joke? Or was Changkyun simply… not in the palace?

Prince Changkyun is not in his room when Hyungwon takes his dinner up, either. He’s disappointed, but he was also expecting that. He replaces the tray of lunch, now cold and probably stale, with the tray of dinner, and takes the abandoned lunch back down to the kitchens. It seems kind of like a waste of food and blood. He just wants to know what’s going on.

Worries about the Prince’s whereabouts are quickly pushed to the back of his mind, though, because as soon as he sets one foot in the kitchens, Minhyuk materializes at his side and informs him that Kyungsoo, with Seokjin’s help, has made dinner for the staff. Sure enough, after dropping off the tray of cold food, he wanders further into the staff quarters and finds a few tables set up and laden with foods and cups of blood. It’s absolutely a pleasant surprise and Hyungwon feels the weight of the day drift from his shoulders as he takes a seat in between Minhyuk and Kihyun.

Kyungsoo sets a glass of blood down on the table as soon as Hyungwon sits down, and he looks at the head chef in question. 

“It’s pig blood,” Kyungsoo says with a soft smile. Hyungwon returns the smile as he sips at it.

The food Seokjin and Kyungsoo has made is incredible, all of it. There’s soup and meat and cooked vegetables that Jimin and Taehyung handpicked from the gardens. Hyungwon is surprised to learn that the King doesn’t actually eat food, opting for only blood instead, and that the Prince only eats food when he wants to. High-status members of staff, like Min Yoongi, who is the palace physician, and Kim Namjoon, the royal advisor, also eat food, but Hyungwon isn’t sure how often they do. Because of this, much of the fruits and vegetables grown in the palace gardens are cooked and eaten by the kitchen, cleaning, and servant staff. Hyungwon also learns that Jimin and Taehyung grow the produce themselves. He’s amazed; it all tastes so, so good.

“Oh, I’m happy to see you’ve all managed to have your feast,” a new voice calls from the doorway. Everyone turns their head to see Kim Namjoon, tall and handsome, leaning against the threshold, a half smile quirked up on his perfect face. “I know Seokjin-hyung and Kyungsoo-ssi were looking forward to this.”

“Namjoon-hyung!” Jungkook sings gleefully. “Come join us!”

“Oh, I shouldn’t,” Namjoon waves him off.

“Why not? You’re palace staff too, aren’t you?” Seokjin teases as he leans back in his seat, nursing a cup.

“I’ve already eaten.” 

“So just have something to drink. You’ve got nothing to do until the evening. Stay a while, won’t you?” Hoseok, a happy man who rivaled Minhyuk in energy, said with a wide, heart-shaped grin.

Namjoon rolls his eyes, but drags a chair over to sit between Hoseok and Seokjin. Seokjin fills a goblet for him and he takes it with a grateful, dimpled smile. 

Hyungwon forgets all about the issue of the Prince’s absense as Namjoon effortlessly hops into the conversation. They’re mostly gossiping about the nobles in Sarisong, but Hyungwon can’t stop looking at everyone’s beautiful faces. He’s not sure why or how everyone in the palace is so gorgeous; it makes him feel a little out of place. Seokjin is already devastatingly handsome, but with Namjoon next to him, Hyungwon doesn’t think he’s seen a more attractive couple. He tries watching them and their interactions, but they don’t seem to have a relationship that is more or less than good friends. It’s a shame, Hyungwon thinks. They’re already both extremely stunning, and Seokjin’s high, squeaky giggles somehow complete Namjoon’s full, heavy laughs. They just seem right for each other.

At some point during the dinner they’re joined by Yoongi. Hyungwon’s never met him before tonight. He's pleasant enough, a bit intimidating but mostly just quiet. He thinks Yoongi looks a little like a cat; he’s got narrow, feline-like eyes and a gummy smile. It seems he acts like a cat as well. He’s a softspoken man and his gaze is piercing, but Hyungwon can live with that. 

He’s also starting to get closer to Jimin and Taehyung. The two are very close in age, and they’re also pretty much joined at the hip. He learns that Jimin, who is only a hundred years old, has been working in the palace since he was fifty after his parents, who also worked in the palace, were killed. Taehyung and Jimin have been glued to each other’s sides since then. 

He talks to Jungkook and discovers that he’s the youngest member of the staff at only eighty-nine; he’s close in age to the Prince, but has never met Prince Changkyun even once. Jungkook works in the stables, whereas his parents and older brother live in Kangjun and make wine out of blood. He’s been working in the palace for only thirty years, but like Jimin and Taehyung, he was very young when he started the job—he was one seventy-five, and he’s going to turn ninety in September. It’s already late June; Hyungwon wonders if he should try to save up to buy Jungkook a present. The kid is incredibly sweet and has the largest eyes Hyungwon has ever seen. He’s already everyone’s baby.

Eventually their dinner comes to an end and Hyungwon starts to help everyone clean up before he glances at the clock and realizes that it’s nearly 10 am. Since Hyungwon has officially been assigned the task of delivering meals to the Prince’s room and therefore already goes up there three times a night, Minhyuk offers to go help get Prince Changkyun ready for bed, but Hyungwon wants to see if the Prince will be there, and declines his offer. He slips from the kitchens before anyone can stop him.

He makes it to the Prince’s bedroom in record time and knocks once. As he suspects, there isn’t a response. He sighs in frustration and decides to take one more peak inside. His hand trembles slightly as it rests on the handle and he steps inside.

He looks around at the Prince’s desk area; it’s still clean and there’s no one there. The candles are all blown out and the drapes are closed. Everything looks entirely untouched. Disappointed, he turns around to scan the rest of the bedroom.

And there Changkyun is, standing by the door to his closet, his glasses balanced on his nose. He’s looking at Hyungwon with a bemused expression on his face and Hyungwon nearly jumps out of his skin in shock, spluttering helplessly. 

“Wh-where have you been, your highness?” Hyungwon can’t stop himself from blurting out. Changkyun’s expression turns puzzled.

“I’ve been here all day,” He says coolly.

Hyungwon must be losing his mind. 

“You—Where?” He asks, trying not to sound as hysterical as he feels. “I—I looked everywhere for you!”

“You... did?” Changkyun’s eyebrows fly to his hairline before they pinch together in confusion.

“Yes! I looked in the gardens, the catacombs, your room multiple times, the library,” He lists off his fingers, shaking his head. “I’ve wandered through the entire palace; I think I know it top to bottom now.”

The Prince looks speechless. “I, um...”

Hyungwon shakes his head, already heading toward the closet to get the changing screen. He doesn’t expect an explanation. Simply by virtue of being the Prince, Changkyun doesn’t owe him one. That’s why he’s surprised enough to stop in his tracks when Changkyun gives him an answer.

“I left the palace,” He says shortly. His tone is defensive.

Well, that explains a lot.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. End of June through July. 1889._

Four nights later, Kihyun and Hyungwon have an hour and a half to themselves at around 3 a.m. and Hyungwon finally gets his hair cut. He sits silently in the chair before the mirror and Kihyun stands on a little step stool behind him, working carefully at his hair with a small pair of shears. Tiny clumps of hair fall to the floor with every little _snip_. While he waits, he thinks. He thinks about the Prince.

It’s another night similar to that one before; the Prince is just gone. Hyungwon had gone to deliver the Prince’s breakfast to him early that evening and found the Prince’s room empty again. He’d quickly learned what an empty room meant and hadn’t even bothered taking the Prince’s lunch to his room. 

He hadn’t even known what to say a few nights ago when Prince Changkyun confessed to him he’d left the palace, and there hadn’t been much conversation after that. He’d helped Changkyun get ready for bed, then turned down his covers and closed the drapes, and then bid him good morning and left. And that had been the end of that.

He decided not to tell Minhyuk and Kihyun about it. The knowledge of Changkyun’s disappearances becomes an unspoken secret between him and the Prince. If Changkyun doesn’t want anyone to know he routinely leaves the castle, Hyungwon sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to expose him. 

What’s obvious to Hyungwon is that Prince Changkyun was not expecting Hyungwon to go looking for him. In their little confrontation three nights ago, the Prince had seemed so surprised to learn that Hyungwon had spent an entire night trying to find him. Based on little interactions over the past few days, Hyungwon is starting to learn that Changkyun.. Doesn’t really have friends, or even acquaintances. He doesn’t have anyone to talk to or answer to. He just does what he wants. He spends hours hunched over a map or a book, he wanders the ancient catacombs in the basement of the palace, he leaves the palace at God knows how early and doesn’t come back until the sun starts to rise. 

And no one seems to know, or care.

It’s just so odd to Hyungwon. He’s the heir to the throne, for God’s sake. Seokjin tells Hyungwon repeatedly to let the Prince be, that the Prince is very low maintenance, to just be there when Changkyun needs him. But Changkyun never needs him. Or Minhyuk, or Kihyun. When he started work in the palace, Hyungwon had expected to be waiting on Changkyun at all times, or at the very least to see him more often than he does.

But it turns out Seokjin is right. Prince Changkyun is a ghost in his own home.

As Kihyun snips away at his hair, little cuts of black fuzz forming a sort of ring around him, he decides he’s going to do what Minhyuk is trying to do; get closer to Prince Changkyun. 

And, he does. Well, he tries. It doesn’t work very well at first. 

* * *

His strange relationship with the Prince ripples a little after the initial confrontation they had when he’d left the castle. Changkyun really isn’t a people person, but Hyungwon can’t tell if it’s because he genuinely prefers to not have friends or is simply having a hard time opening up to him. 

Either way, it shakes Hyungwon’s resolve to try to befriend him. Two days after his haircut, on the last, warmest night of June, Hyungwon tries to have a conversation with the Prince while he’s reading, and it absolutely backfires. 

“Why are you talking to me like that?” Changkyun snaps, slamming his book shut. Hyungwon reels back in shock, not sure what he’d done wrong.

“I-I’m terribly sorry, your highness,” He stammers. Changkyun glowers at him, eyes flashing.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but I want you to stop. All three of you are being—being _strange_. Why ask me what I like to read when you don’t even care? What is it you want?”

Hyungwon stays silent, not sure if Changkyun wants a response.

“Well?” Changkyun snaps. Hyungwon fumbles to come up with a reply, but all he manages to tell is the truth.

“We do care, your highness,” Hyungwon says feebly, head bowed. “We… just want to get to know you.”

Changkyun stares silently at him for a second, as if trying to read him, sizing him up.

“Get out,” He snaps, and Hyungwon all but runs from the room.

He’s unable to shake the interaction off, and when he finally approaches Seokjin to tell him what had happened, he tells the older vampire the truth; that he’d been trying to have a conversation, and Changkyun had flown off the handle. Seokjin gives him a sad smile.

“He doesn’t understand what you’re doing,” Seokjin explains softly. “He’s never been treated that way before. He thinks it’s going to come with a price, or something. His initial impulse is to get angry because he doesn’t know what your goal is.”

That just confuses Hyungwon even more. He’s made his “goal” clear; all he wants to be is friends with him. When Hyungwon tells him this, Seokjin just shakes his head. He advises Hyungwon to back off a little bit, to save his own neck.

So he takes Seokjin’s advice to heart. As the first moon of July rises, he remodels his tactics. He remains friendly and flexible when interacting with Changkyun, but doesn’t say or do anything that will instigate another meltdown. Instead, he opts to silently observe the Prince and learns his likes and dislikes on his own. 

Prince Changkyun enjoys reading, Hyungwon learns quickly, as he often finds Changkyun pacing the hallways and corridors, his nose buried in a book. Hyungwon takes any chance he can to learn what exactly Changkyun likes to read by studying the books shoved into the shelves in the Prince’s study. A lot of it is fiction, novels and the like, but he also notices many biographies and autobiographies of the most successful monarchs and military generals in Vampire history. Also among them are history books, war memoirs and journals, and nonfiction texts about historical events. 

What he’s not expecting, though, is that soon after Hyungwon begins to back off a little bit, Changkyun starts to open up to him, little by little. It’s a painstakingly gradual process that takes place over the course of almost the entire month of July, but Hyungwon is pleasantly surprised.

At first, it starts out as asking for specific foods for breakfast or dinner, with a little input like “my favorite meat is chicken” that Hyungwon guesses are Changkyun’s small attempts at opening up. It’s a little awkward, but it’s something. Little things like that grow into bigger things, like telling Hyungwon what he’s reading, entirely unprovoked, or asking Hyungwon for advice on things like organizing his bookshelves.

“King Biyoung, my great grandfather, was one of the best militant monarchs in supernatural history,” Changkyun told him eagerly one mid-July night, after Hyungwon had delivered his lunch and asked him what he was reading about. “A true military genius. He’s mentioned in every history textbook printed since the year 1480. I’m reading about his strategies. Did you know he led the Vampire army to victory in the Battle of the Glittering Waters completely on his own, with his own genius?”

Hyungwon hadn’t known that, but he was fascinated anyway and listened to the Prince ramble on and on about it for the next forty-five minutes. 

He doesn’t know what intrigues and impresses him more; the fact that Changkyun is so knowledgeable about it, or the fact that Changkyun is so eager to tell him all about it. 

Changkyun gets excited to discuss historical and cultural aspects of the Vampire Kingdom, Hyungwon notices. He really doesn’t know how to handle it, or if the way he’s handling it is the right way, but sometimes, when Prince Changkyun sees Hyungwon, he has a cool, interesting fact to share with him. If that’s not a good sign, Hyungwon doesn’t know what is. After repeatedly being pushed away, he was fully prepared to keep his head down, his mouth shut, and do his job, but now.. Changkyun seems to like him. He’s not quite sure what inspired this change in attitude, but he’s definitely not complaining. He likes Changkyun. 

As their relationship grows from employee-employer to what Hyungwon would call friends, it becomes clear to Hyungwon how unwarranted Changkyun’s reputation around the palace staff is. When he first started out, most of the other servants he spoke to—Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, and others—warned him about the Prince. But there’s more to Changkyun than his initial silence, and he doesn’t understand why he, Kihyun, and Minhyuk seem to be the only ones who have learned to see that. They’re wildly inexperienced compared to Jimin and Taehyung, who have been working in the palace for decades. And yet, they’ve gotten closer to Changkyun in just a month than Jimin and Taehyung have in literal years.

He’s not the only one who takes notice of this, either. Minhyuk in particular gets very excited when Changkyun tells him something cool and interesting, and likes to share with the rest of the staff. Hyungwon often sees Taehyung get agitated in response, but he’s not sure what is warranting this response. They’re making a friend out of the Prince. Shouldn’t that be considered a good thing?

It comes to a head one mid-July morning in the kitchens, after Hyungwon returns from delivering Changkyun’s dinner to his room. What was meant to be a short trip had ended up taking almost twenty minutes, as he’d gotten wrapped up in a conversation with the Prince.

“Took you long enough,” Taehyung comments as he reenters the kitchens, the empty tray tucked under his arm. “What did he do, yell at you for fifteen minutes?”

In actuality, Hyungwon had interrupted Changkyun as he was reciting poetry written by a British human from a few centuries ago, someone named William Shakespeare. Hyungwon had never even heard of him before, but Changkyun took the time to describe to Hyungwon just who Shakespeare had been and the plot of the play he was reading—a romantic comedy titled _Much Ado About Nothing_. The plot had been a bit bemusing and hard to follow, and not necessarily something Hyungwon would have suspected Changkyun to enjoy, but fun all the same.

Taehyung’s comment bothers Hyungwon. 

“Actually, no,” Hyungwon says shortly, placing the tray on the counter. “He told me the plot of the play he’s currently reading. Quite eagerly, might I add.”

This response seems to catch Taehyung off guard. It also catches the attention of Seokjin, Jimin, Jungkook, Yoongi, Kihyun, and Minhyuk, who all turn to him in surprise.

“I don’t understand why he has the reputation he has,” Hyungwon continues, frustrated and tired of the snide comments he always seems to hear about the Prince. “He’s a sweet boy. He likes to read and he likes to tell me what he’s reading. Your contempt towards him seems… unwarranted.”

“Okay, so, what is it about you three that brings this side out of him?” Taehyung asks, eyebrows pulling together. “Because every other staff member who’s ever attended to him has tried to do the exact same thing you have, and failed miserably.”

“Well, I don’t know what we’re doing differently, but he seems to like talking to me. Sometimes, at least.” Hyungwon says, confused as to why Taehyung sounds so accusatory. He and Kihyun and Minhyuk have done nothing but be kind and treat Changkyun with respect and kindness; he’s not sure what he’s done to warrant this response from Taehyung.

“Tell me what you do.”

“With the Prince?” Hyungwon is trying not to feel cornered.

“Yes.”

“We ask him how he is, every time we see him. We ask him what he’s reading when we see him reading and he tells us whatever the book or play or scripture is about. All we’re doing is listening to him,” Kihyun answers for Hyungwon, his own expression twisted into agitation. “It seems to me like no one has ever bothered to do that before. Weren’t any of the other staff members open-minded about him? Or did they just expect him to be snobbish and rude simply because he’s royalty, and treat him as such? Forgive us for trying to make a friend out of him.”

Taehyung stares at Kihyun blankly. Jimin, Jungkook, Yoongi and Seokjin also look a little blindsided by Kihyun’s rant. Hyungwon wonders if they know anything about the Prince at all.

“Why does it surprise you lot to hear that we’ve been treating him with basic decency?” Minhyuk questions.

“We’re just… surprised you’ve managed to last this long. This is going to sound terrible, but the kid has been alive almost two centuries and you’re the first group of staff to treat him with kindness since his mother,” Jimin ads softly. “Others have tried, sure, but it’s not long before his standoffish attitude and tendency to push everyone away either makes them quit or otherwise stop trying, or he fires them. I’m sure it’s easy for you, right?”

Hyungwon shakes his head slowly. Jimin’s right; it hasn’t been easy. Changkyun had been standoffish and silent when they first met him, and pushed them away multiple times when they expressed interest in his likes and dislikes. Hyungwon can still remember the night Changkyun had shouted at him, and he knows Minhyuk and Kihyun had experienced similar behavior. Their relationship wth the Prince hasn’t been a solid upward trend; it’s more like a plateau, with inconsistent sharp dips and slight increases.

But Changkyun’s attitude didn’t seem to deter Minhyuk, and eventually Hyungwon and Kihyun learned to follow his example when it started to have good results, when Changkyun grew a little softer. They followed Minhyuk’s lead and just kept talking to Changkyun with respect and kindness. It’s been a painstakingly gradual process, but Changkyun has started to open up to them because of it.

“That’s why we’re confused. Either you’re very determined, or he genuinely likes you three.” Jimin explains.

“It’s no good to be discouraged just because he was unfriendly at first.” Hyungwon comments softly. “Just because he didn’t want anything to do with us when we first met him doesn’t mean we don’t want anything to do with him.”

“So what do you want from him?” Taehyung barks. “Money? Power? To play him like a marionette? To take advantage of the fact that he’s never had real friends before?”

“I’m a bit offended you think that low of us, Taehyung,” Kihyun interjects, his tone properly irritated, and Taehyung at least has the decency to look a little chastised. “We’re kind to the Prince and he seems to like us. Why does that mean we want something from him?”

“He seems eager to talk to me. Not always, but sometimes. Like he’s pleasantly surprised when I show interest in whatever he’s doing or reading,” Minhyuk replies quietly. “We don’t have ulterior motives. I want to be his friend.”

“He needs someone, some people, who care about him,” Hyungwon adds.

“If those people have to be us, because everyone else is too scared to try, then so be it,” Kihyun finishes, crossing his arms.

Jimin’s face relaxes into a sad smile. “You seem to be good people, the lot of you. We try not to get attached to the Prince’s personal attendants. I’ll be sad to see you go.”

“We’re not going anywhere any time soon.”

“I admire that mindset, but that’s not your call to make. The Prince has a hard time trusting people; everyone’s left him, sooner or later. I’d have tried my hand at being one of his attendants but I know it would get me kicked out eventually. And this... this is all I have.” Jimin gestures to the boys behind him with a strained smile. 

Hyungwon’s heart pangs with sympathy. He doesn’t know a lot about Jimin, but he does know he’s an orphan, and that a place in the palace truly is all he has. He knows he and Taehyung are very protective of each other and their positions in the palace. Perhaps that’s what caused Taehyung’s outburst; a desire to protect himself. Or his pride. Hyungwon doesn’t know.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. End of July through August. 1889._

Even though the little spat in the kitchens that night threw them off a bit, Minhyuk, Kihyun, and Hyungwon continue to develop their personal relationships with the Prince as July comes to an end. They each have their own small moments with him, whether it’s helping him pick an outfit for the day, listening to him rant about a particular section in one of his books, or even something as trivial as learning his favorite flavors and types of blood. 

However, Hyungwon also learns that Jimin had been right. Changkyun does seem to have a hard time trusting them. Some interactions don’t go as well as others. Changkyun is still prone to outbursts and fits of frustration. But there’s also been a change in his demeanor, a noticeable one at that, and sometimes, after snapping or shouting at them, Changkyun will apologize in his own way.

While each little interaction may not feel like a victory every time, they all feel like progress.

The struggle to befriend Prince Changkyun through his attitude swings and outbursts is further made difficult by the fact that there is still the 50-50 chance that when Hyungwon goes to deliver the Prince his breakfast, he’ll discover an empty room. And despite the fact that Hyungwon likes to believe he’s getting closer to the Prince, Changkyun never gives any indication when he’s planning to leave the palace. It’s totally random, and Hyungwon is never expecting it. He’s also not going to admit that whenever he finds the Prince’s chamber empty, he’s a little bit disappointed. 

And, what’s more interesting is that Kihyun and Minhyuk, to Hyungwon’s knowledge, still have no idea that an empty bedroom means Changkyun is not even in the castle. Kihyun still seems to be under the impression that whenever they can’t find him, it means he’s in the gardens or the catacombs and wants to be alone, and Minhyuk has agreed with his assumption that sometimes Changkyun just needs a day to be by himself.

Hyungwon knows better, though. Regardless, he keeps his mouth shut. 

So for the first two weeks of August, Hyungwon further watches the Prince, and starts taking notes on his disappearances. He keeps a tally of it; out of fourteen nights, Changkyun leaves six times. He doesn’t seem to have a schedule; he goes at random and spends the entire night out of the palace, and no one other than Hyungwon even bats an eye.

What Hyungwon does catch onto over the course of the eighth month, however, is that the mornings before he discovers an empty room, Changkyun goes to bed earlier than normal. It takes Hyungwon a while to realize it, but once he does, he uses it as a way to tell whether or not breakfast will even be necessary the next evening. But his curiosity as to where the Prince vanishes to every couple of nights only grows. 

So when, on the coolest morning in the last week of August, Changkyun goes to bed early, Hyungwon hatches a plan.

Hyungwon gets up before Kihyun and Minhyuk the next evening, determined to catch Changkyun in the act. He doesn’t care if this gets him fired at this point, he’s so curious to know what Changkyun is doing and where he’s going and he likes to consider himself a friend to Changkyun. He bathes himself in record time, dresses, and brushes his teeth, before leaving the room a quarter to 7 pm. He hurries up the four flights of stairs to the Prince’s bedroom and then he hesitates.

He gets closer to the door. Just as he suspected he might, he hears rustling and moving around inside the room. He stands still for a moment, not quite sure what he should do. He hasn’t quite thought this far ahead. 

“I know you’re out there, Hyungwon-ssi.”

Hyungwon bites his lip to hold in a gasp. He backs away from the door, eyes wider than tea saucers, and feels the blood drain from his face when the door opens and Prince Changkyun peers back at him.

“You’ve been watching me,” He accuses. “If you were so curious about where I go, you could have just asked me.”

Hyungwon doesn’t know what else to do. He drops to his knees and presses his forehead to the floor. “I am so sorry, my Prince.”

“Get up,” Changkyun says, and Hyungwon quickly stands back up. Prince Changkyun gives him a once over, then hums. “I’m glad you’re dressed.”

“Your highness...?”

“Now that you’ve caught me in the act, I’ve got no choice but to take you with me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Your Highness.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not asking, then. Come inside, please.”

Shaking, Hyungwon gingerly steps inside and closes the door behind him. Changkyun heads towards his closet; he’s already dressed, but goes inside anyway. He starts talking, and Hyungwon hurries to hear him.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen Sarisong before, hm?” Prince Changkyun asks from inside the small room, voice muffled slightly. 

“Ah, um, not really,” Hyungwon says awkwardly.

“Allow me to show you the best places in the city, then,” Prince Changkyun says as he exits his closet, holding two bundles of darkly colored fabric. He holds one of the bundles out to Hyungwon and he takes it with a deep bow. 

Prince Changkyun unfolds his bundle, letting it tumble to the floor. Hyungwon realizes it’s a cloak; it’s long, the color of the sea, and decorated with little gems around the collar and hood. As the Prince wraps the cloak around his shoulders, Hyungwon unfolds the fabric he’s holding. It’s also a cloak, but his is a gorgeous forest green color and speckled with tiny diamonds and beads. He gawks at it. 

“Your Highness,” He swallows. “I, uh, are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise,” Prince Changkyun says as he fiddles with the buttons around the collar of his cloak. “Unless you’d rather not go?”

“I’m honored to go with you,” Hyungwon bites his lip.

Changkyun nods. “Good. Put your cloak on, then.”

Hyungwon feels kind of like he’s dreaming, but he puts the cloak on and waits for further instructions. Changkyun rummages around his desk for a moment, slipping a small pouch into one of the pockets on the inside of his cloak, then he turns to Hyungwon and beckons him to follow. Hyungwon is quick to trail behind him. 

“Would you like me to blow out the candles, Highness?” Hyungwon asks.

“No, let them burn,” Changkyun says, opening the door to his room. “It will trick people into believing I’m still in the palace.” He pauses, then turns to Hyungwon. “This will be our secret.”

“Of course, Highness,” Hyungwon agrees quickly. It’s not like he had any intent to tell anyone about the Prince’s habit, but now he’s officially been sworn to secrecy. This is one secret he’s sure to keep.

Hyungwon, bewildered, follows Changkyun down the stairs and when he expects to turn towards the front gates of the palace, Changkyun surprises him by guiding him towards the gardens. But then they start to move away from the gardens and Hyungwon gives up on trying to pinpoint where they are in the monstrous castle; Prince Changkyun clearly knows what he’s doing, so he keeps quiet and follows him.

Changkyun leads Hyungwon to a darkened hallway and they approach a tall, aged, crumbling statue of a vampire with a long beard and a thorny crown atop his head holding the royal coat of arms. The little bronze plaque on the ledge reads, “King Biyoung the First.” He hasn’t studied history in a while, but Hyungwon remembers Changkyun’s excited rant about him. Biyoung was Changkyun’s great grandfather, who ruled almost eight hundred years ago. 

Changkyun reaches around the plinth and begins to pull on it. Hyungwon wonders briefly if he should help him, but then remembers Changkyun, simply by virtue of having royal blood, has enhanced strength that common vampires like Hyungwon don’t have. Sure enough, Hyungwon watches as Changkyun barely breaks a sweat as he drags the statue away from the stone wall, revealing a gap just big enough for Hyungwon to fit through.

“Woah,” Hyungwon mumbles to himself. Changkyun glances at him over his shoulder.

“This is how I leave the castle. You’re not to tell anyone or use this passage yourself.” Prince Changkyun says. Hyungwon nods fervently, and then Changkyun ducks into the hole in the wall, Hyungwon hot on his heels.

“Highness?” He asks, jumping a bit at the way his voice echoes off the walls of the tunnel Changkyun has led him into.

“Yes?” 

“Um, what happens if we get caught?”

“We won’t.”

Hyungwon stays silent, stunned. He sounds so sure of himself. It’s… comforting.

“If we do, I’ll handle it. This was my idea, not yours.”

That also comforts Hyungwon. He doesn’t even know how he’s going to begin to explain this to Kihyun and Minhyuk when they inevitably ask him where he’d been the entire night.

* * *

Eventually the tunnel leads to a small, rusted wooden door and Changkyun opens it with ease. Hyungwon has to duck a little bit to get through the door but when he and Changkyun step out into the light, all Hyungwon can see is trees. He realizes that they’re standing at the edge of the Yeoneung Forest, the cluster of trees that flanks the castle on the left side and borders the Glittering Waters. He glances at Changkyun for further instruction; he’s got no idea where to go from here.

“Follow me.” The Prince says simply, and Hyungwon does.

They walk in silence. There’s nothing to see for miles around him but trees, shrubs, and other flowering plants. The forest is beautiful, though, even in the darkness. The sun hasn’t quite set just yet, but the sky is a magnificent gradient of yellow-orange, then rosy pink, then royal purple, and then a dark indigo. Little specks of stars peek shyly through the wispy clouds and the moon, painted the softest pink, creeps across the canvas. The greenery around him seems to shimmer in the fading light. This scene is unlike anything he’d ever see at home in Tansu. Hyungwon could stare at it for hours.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Changkyun asks.

“It’s breathtaking,” Hyungwon breathes.

Hyungwon doesn’t know how long they walk, but it’s long enough that they’re still walking when the sun fully sets and indigo splashes across the sky and the moon turns an iridescent, sparkling white, casting a misty glow across the terrain. Through the canopy of dark trees, Hyungwon lets the moon’s light send shivers down his spine all the way to the tips of his fingers and the top of his head.

“We’re not too far from the city now. What’s your favorite blood type?”

The question startles Hyungwon. He glances at the Prince, who is gazing stonily at the forest floor. Prince Changkyun shoots him an expectant, slightly uncomfortable look. Hyungwon pauses a second before replying.

“Um... chicken blood, Highness.” Hyungwon answers awkwardly.

Changkyun’s gaze turns to Hyungwon briefly, slightly incredulous. “...Chicken blood.”

“Y-yes, Your Highness.”

“There’s much better blood out there than chicken. Have you... never had anything else?” 

Suddenly Hyungwon knows where this conversation will go. His shoes suddenly become much more interesting than conversing with the Prince. He also feels the slightest bit resentful; the Prince really doesn’t know how much his people suffer? Just how sheltered is he?

“No, I haven’t.” He says quietly.

“You can’t get anything else where you live? Where are you from?”

“I was born and raised in Tansu. Blood is a luxury for people in my hometown, your highness,” Hyungwon says softly, kind of wishing they could talk about anything else. 

“When do you drink it?”

“I only ever get to have it on my birthday, Your Grace.”

Changkyun pauses, as if soaking the information in. He turns to look Hyungwon in the eye, but Hyungwon stubbornly keeps his gaze on his shoes, unable to make eye contact.

“Blood should not be a luxury,” He says, and despite his tone being mostly blank, Hyungwon is able to detect traces of anger. “That... I've never heard anything so absurd. It should not be a luxury if it’s what all vampires need to survive. How do Tansu citizens sustain themselves?”

“Food, Your Grace, mostly. Meat from livestock, cheese, bread.” He dares a glance at Changkyun. He looks furious, his bottom lip crushed between his teeth.

Food, while it can behave as sustenance to vampires, doesn’t have nearly the extent of nutritional value that blood has. It’s hard for vampires to live solely off of food, but it’s doable. In the past, centuries and centuries ago, every vampire had access to all kinds of blood. But as the monarchy grew more and more corrupt, even the most common bloods became too expensive for the unfortunate. Most Tansu citizens are used to food over blood.

They fall back into silence for a moment. It’s a tight, uncomfortable silence; Hyungwon can feel anger radiating off of Changkyun. He opens his mouth to say something, to try to diffuse the situation, but he’s interrupted when Changkyun grabs his hand. He flinches at the sudden contact, but then Changkyun is dragging him in a different direction.

“Wha—Your Highness?” Hyungwon stutters, too shocked to do anything other than stumble after him. “Where are we going?”

“We've passed the Buyuhan District. The city is just up ahead.”

Hyungwon looks. Sure enough, at the edge of the forestline up ahead, he can see the lights of the city dazzle in between the trees and foliage. Directly outside the gates of the castle is a residential district known as Buyuhan—it's where the so-called one percent live. Separating Buyuhan and Jiteun, the other residential district, is the largest shopping complex in the entire kingdom: Pungbuhan Plaza. Sarisong is the smallest kingdom in the city by size, and population, but it still manages to house the most massive area of recreation on the whole island.

“Tell me, Hyungwon-ssi, what’s a blood type you’ve never tasted before?”

“Um...”

Changkyun tosses an expectant glance, eyebrows raised, over his shoulder.

“I’ve never had human blood, your grace.” Hyungwon confesses.

“Neither have I. We’ll get some right now.” Changkyun declares.

“Your Highness, I was under the impression you cannot consume human blood,” Hyungwon isn’t able to keep the alarm out of his voice. He was not planning on stopping the Prince from poisoning himself.

“I didn’t say _I_ would drink any. We’re going to a bar; I’ll order you human blood and I’ll have something else.”

“You don’t have to do this, Your Highness,” Hyungwon feels a faint lump in his throat. He wasn’t prepared for this at all, how is he supposed to react? 

“But I want to. So I will.” Changkyun says, tone laced with finality. “Also, don’t call me ‘highness’ or ‘grace’ when we’re around others.”

And that’s that. He keeps his word; upon reaching the glittering streets of Sarisong, they wander through the winding roads of the magnificent city and enter the first pub they come across. It’s packed with wealthy folk, dancing ladies, and huge, drunk, burly men, slamming down tankards of alcoholic blood and laughing loudly enough to shake the entire building. Everyone is dressed in expensive, sparkling fabrics and clothes. Hyungwon is a bit overwhelmed by the noise, the smell, and the staggering amount of vampires in the little pub, but Changkyun glides through the crowd easily, like he’s used to everything.

Hyungwon follows Changkyun to the bar, glossy with lacquer, where they sit down in velvet stools and Changkyun flags down the bartender. The bartender, a middle-aged vampire with greying dark hair, clearly doesn’t know who Changkyun is, and Hyungwon is in awe at how casually they speak to each other. Changkyun orders a glass of human blood for Hyungwon and a chalice of owl blood for himself. Once the glass is placed in front of Hyungwon, full of rich red liquid that glimmers brilliantly under the yellow light of the candles, he stares at it in apprehension. Changkyun sits back in his stool, his own glass cupped delicately in his long fingers, and watches Hyungwon patiently. His expression is neutral, but the slightest bit gentle. 

He takes up the glass with shaking hands, glancing uncertainly at the Prince. Changkyun blinks at him, as if silently encouraging him. Everything about this experience is so surreal, bordering on absolutely unreal. For God’s sake, he’s snuck out of the palace and is sitting at a bar in a pub in the City of Riches with the Prince of the Kingdom itself next to him and a cup of human blood in his hands. But if it’s a dream, he doesn’t want to wake up. He decides to just go with the flow and see where it takes him. 

He brings the glass to his lips and as soon as the liquid touches his tongue, warmth shoots like lightning through his entire body. It’s absolutely heavenly; the blood is cool and sweet on his tongue and it’s got a bit of a spicy kick to it, and it makes him feel like he’s floating. The feeling and taste is addicting and he doesn’t stop drinking until the glass is empty. When he sets it down, his entire body shakes from the feeling. He exhales slowly as it begins to ebb. Changkyun tilts his head back, eyes trained on Hyungwon, watching every aspect of his reaction.

“Good, hm?” He asks, fangs poking out over his bottom lip.

Hyungwon can’t even speak; he just nods. He’s still trembling. He feels like he’s been blessed with something holy; it’s unlike anything he’s ever tasted before. He’s definitely sure this is a dream now.

“What other blood types would you like to try?” Changkyun asks, sipping elegantly from the chalice of owl plasma. 

“Um,” Hyungwon says eloquently, feeling like he’s got mush for brains. He’s still coming down from the high the human blood gave him and he still can’t quite convince himself that the Prince is being so generous.

“Well, what have you had before?”

“Cow, pig, chicken. And, uh, human, now.” 

Changkyun watches him with an unreadable expression on his face. Pig, chicken, cow; they’re the easiest to get—easiest because they’re the cheapest, cheapest because they’re the most common. But they’re hard to find in Tansu because even the cheapest blood is too expensive for most citizens. Cows, pigs, and chickens are livestock mostly used for blood breeding; they’re raised until they produce offspring and once they’re bled dry and the blood is packaged and shipped out to the Kingdom, the citizens of Tansu get to have whatever’s left of the corpses. He’s never let himself dream of drinking anything other than those types. Everything else—human, owl, fox, wolf, and other rarer animals—are just too expensive.

Besides, drinking blood directly through the source—human and whatnot—is considered primitive and animalistic in today’s society.

“Do you want to try anything else?” Changkyun asks, gesturing at the menu hanging above the wall of bottles and bottles of blood and alcohol. The menu is a slab of varnished wood with words and prices carved into it and painted a fierce gold color to be legible. Owl blood, wolf blood, fox blood, and countless other exorbitant drinks are listed.

“I, um, don’t need any more. Thank you for the offer, your—um.” Hyungwon catches himself before he can finish the honorific, but he’s still unable to look Changkyun in the face. As amazing as the blood is, he doesn’t think he can stomach much more if it.

“Your body isn’t used to being given proper nutrients.” Changkyun says suddenly. 

It isn’t a question. Hyungwon doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even know what he can say to that. It’s the truth.

Changkyun sips from his chalice and Hyungwon feels kind of like the mood has been ruined, but then Changkyun puts down his cup, empty now, and drops three gold coins on the varnished surface of the bar. 

“Come on,” He says coolly as he slips off the stool, his navy cloak fluttering around his ankles. “We have a lot more to see.”

“I don’t know how to thank you for this, your highness,” Hyungwon says delicately, standing up.

Changkyun’s lips quirk up the tiniest of smiles, then turns and leads him out of the bar.

He follows Changkyun from the tavern, and they’re walking down the street, weaving in between bustling citizens, when he realizes that it’s the first time he’s ever seen Changkyun smile.

* * *

Changkyun takes him to many places in the city; they visit the park, the clock tower, and various little stores of knickknacks and clothes, but Hyungwon’s favorite, he decides, is the bookstore closer to the gates of the walled city. The store, named Gyoso’s Novels and run by a kind older woman by the name of San Junmi, is four stories high with a rickety wooden staircase. And each level has dozens of bookshelves that yawn from the floor to the ceiling, each shelf overstuffed with books, old and new. He and Changkyun spend an hour and a half just looking around.

Over the week and a half he’s been Changkyun’s attendant, Hyungwon has gotten familiar with the books in Changkyun’s own library. He takes a look at the old bookshelves in Changkyun’s study every chance he gets, and he usually spends between half an hour and an hour in Changkyun’s room daily, whether it’s cleaning, helping Changkyun get ready for bed, or delivering food. He likes to think he’s familiar with most of Changkyun’s book collection, and he’s impressed with himself every time he scans a shelf in the store and finds a book he knows Changkyun owns.

It comes as a terrible surprise to him, as well. He suddenly realizes where he is, what he’s doing. He’s wandering around the _City of Riches_ with the _Prince_ like he’s his _friend_. He’s sneaked out of the castle, tasted exquisite human blood, and seen things he’d never thought he’d ever see. More importantly, he’s let himself get attached to Prince Changkyun. He told himself he couldn’t get used to this, and yet he has.

But as he watches Changkyun’s eyes dart back and forth across rows and rows of books on the shelves, glittering in fascination and intrigue, he can’t find it in him to care. He’s enjoying himself. He feels like he’s living, not just alive. 

He doesn’t know if or when he’ll feel like this again.

So he lets himself bask in it.

* * *

The sun begins to prickle Hyungwon’s skin even under the magnificent cloak when Changkyun announces that it’s time to head back to the palace. They each have their own bags; Hyungwon purchased a couple of books in the wonderful bookstore while Changkyun had his back turned, and Changkyun has purchased two very expensive bottles of wine. Kangjun Noir. The pinnacle of Vampire wine; once you've had it, nothing else tastes as good.

As they sneak away from the heart of the city towards the Yeoneung Forest, Sarisong begins to go to sleep. Candles in windows of extravagant mansions and lanterns and oil street lights begin to go out; the hustle and bustle of the people dwindles to a slow trickle; shop owners shoo remaining people from the stores and pull the curtains closed on the windows. Hyungwon watches in fascination as they slip from sight, weaving behind buildings and landmarks to get to the great forest bordering the city. 

They creep closer to the forest. The rising sun, bleak and pale in the early morning, is starting to burn Hyungwon; he’s always had thin skin and burned easily. He’ll need to apply some cream before he goes to bed. He’ll be thankful to be under the cover of the forest’s canopy.

“Thank you for accompanying me tonight.” Prince Changkyun whispers as they approach the forest’s edge. “I... hope you enjoyed yourself.”

Hyungwon is momentarily speechless; this night has been one of the best of his life. The things he’d experienced—the sights, the colors, the people, the shopping, all of it—he’ll never forget.

“I’m honored to have gone with you, Your Grace,” Hyungwon says with a smile. Changkyun doesn’t see it, his back is to Hyungwon as he pushes through shrubbery, but Hyungwon likes to think his smile was returned.

Prince Changkyun emphasizes the importance of hurrying before the sun can fully cast its light over the kingdom, so they make it back to the palace faster than Hyungwon expects to. They slip back into the palace the same way they slipped out, and after assuring the coast is clear around the statue of Biyoung the First, Changkyun dismisses Hyungwon, with one final instruction,

“Don’t tell Kihyun and Minhyuk where you were. If they have questions, send them to me. I’ll handle it. Be in my room with dinner at 7 a.m.”

Hyungwon nods, and dips into a bow at the waist. When he stands back up, the Prince is gone.

He’s halfway to his room when he realizes he’s still wearing the Prince’s cloak, and makes a mental note to deliver it to the Prince when he takes his dinner up. A quick glance at the clock tells him it’s 6:49 in the morning. Kihyun and Minhyuk are still on the clock; there’s a fairly good chance they won’t be in their shared bedroom. Hyungwon hurries to the room.

He sighs in relief when he finds it empty. He hides his shopping bag under his bed and he slips the cloak off, folds it neatly on the bed, and then gives himself a once over in the mirror. After fluffing his hair a bit and straightening up his uniform, he drapes the folded cloak over his shoulder and quickly leaves the room in the direction of the kitchens. 

“And where in _God’s_ _name_ have you been?”

Kihyun’s voice, shrill with irritation, is the first thing that greets him when he pushes into the kitchens. He doesn’t give Kihyun a chance to pounce on him, though, as he immediately spots the Prince’s supper, a hefty slice of game pie and steamed vegetables with a chalice of what smelled like fox blood on the side. He grabs the tray as soon as he’s within a foot of it, but he can feel everyone’s eyes on him and can’t stop himself from looking up.

“All day, you’ve been gone!” Kihyun bites out, hands on his hips. “Are you not even going to explain?”

“The Prince wishes for all three of us,” Hyungwon says the first thing that comes to his mind, then wants to hit himself when surprise crosses Minhyuk’s expression and Kihyun raises an eyebrow. “I was with him all day. I’m telling you, he’s asked for us.”

“You were with him all day? Well, that explains everything. Everything except _where_ you were!” Kihyun snaps, but he and Minhyuk immediately follow him as he turns on his heel, tray in hand, and pushes out of the kitchens.

The questions don’t stop as the three of them make their way up to the Prince’s room, but they all come from Kihyun. Minhyuk remains uncharacteristically quiet, but Hyungwon isn’t complaining—he manages to avoid answering any of Kihyun’s questions until they make it to the Prince’s hallway. The candles lining the walls of the hallway have been blown out, and the drapes on the two windows have been shut.

“Hyungwon-ah. Why aren’t you answering me? Are you alright?” Kihyun gripes, exasperated, as Hyungwon balances the tray on one hand to knock four times on the door.

As they wait for Changkyun to answer, Hyungwon is able to look at Kihyun. He looks oddly… stressed. Minhyuk seems very calm, but his gaze is calculating in a way that is unnerving to Hyungwon. He really hadn’t thought about how his actions might affect them. He’s starting to feel bad now.

“Enter,” Prince Changkyun’s voice calls through the door after a moment of silence. Hyungwon pushes the door open.

Prince Changkyun is perched in his chair, a book balanced in his hands. He’s changed out of his outfit from the day, and he’s sitting in a way that suggests he really had been there all day. He glances up, then his expression brightens a bit in surprise when he sees Kihyun and Minhyuk following Hyungwon. Hyungwon shoots him an apologetic look as he moves to place the tray onto the desk under the windows a few paces away, and Changkyun bookmarks his page and gets to his feet.

He waits for all three of them to bow and stand back up before addressing them.

“You’re all here,” He says, a statement rather than a question.

“Hyungwon-ah told us you wanted to see all three of us,” Minhyuk tilts his head slightly.

Changkyun glances at him questioningly, but all Hyungwon manages to do is look helplessly back at him. He’s not lying when he says he was totally unprepared for their night out. He really doesn’t know what to say to Kihyun or Minhyuk.

“I... see. Yes, ah, um,” Changkyun looks at the floor. For a Prince, he’s very nervous.

“Your highness, if I may,” Kihyun begins, a hint of desperation laced into his tone. Changkyun nods at him to begin speaking. “Where... we were unable to find either of you today. Please, at the very least... where have you been?”

Changkyun takes a deep breath. “I took him to see Sarisong.”

There’s a pause. 

“I’m sorry?” Kihyun shakes his head. “You… took him to the city?”

“Well, I had been planning to go alone. He caught me before I could leave so I just... took him along.”

Minhyuk is nodding quietly. Kihyun glances at him, expression disbelieving. “You don’t seem very surprised.”

“I suspected it,” Minhyuk says simply. 

“Of course you did.” Kihyun throws his hands up, then rubs his temple. He turns to Hyungwon. “Next time, let me know _before_ you leave the palace. Not after. I was looking for you all day, Hyungwon-ah, honestly. I needed your help.”

“I do not believe there will be a next time,” Hyungwon murmurs, feeling a little forlorn. He’d let himself get carried away; he’d forgone the consequences.

Changkyun is watching them talk like a tennis match, gaze flicking between each man in absolute bewilderment. 

“It wasn’t his fault,” Changkyun says. “I... it wasn’t. I leave the castle all the time. He just happened to catch me before I could leave this evening.”

“Oh, your grace,” Kihyun sighs. “I.. respect your decision to leave. There’s not a lot I can do about it. But please, won’t you tell us next time?”

“I’ve never needed to tell anyone before,” Changkyun’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and Kihyun’s mouth snaps shut. “I just don’t understand why you.. Seem to care so much.”

“We’re your friends, are we not?” Minhyuk chirps, eyes wide and bright.

The statement clearly catches Changkyun off guard. He snaps his gaze to Minhyuk and he looks floored; his lips are slightly parted, his head tilted in perplexity, eyes wide with surprise.

“...Friends?” He whispers, tone incredulous, gaze boring into Minhyuk. “Um..”

He glances between the three of them again, then closes his mouth. 

“Yes. We are… friends.”

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. End of August. 1889._

Following that night, there’s a distinct difference in Changkyun’s behavior towards the three of them. He still seems to be struggling to open up, sometimes letting his shyness and aversion to socializing get in the way, but there’s a more clear effort that he’s trying to reciprocate their friendship. His attempts are clumsy and uncertain. He tries to ask them basic questions, such as their favorite flavors of blood, their preferred colors, and about their families, but the questions come off as hesitant and timid. 

Hyungwon learns through Seokjin that Prince Changkyun has been isolated ever since the death of the Queen, a nearly seventy years ago. He'd been twenty five years old, a tiny child: only five in human years. Too young to lose his mother. This knowledge only makes Prince Changkyun’s awkward questions all the more endearing. It’s clear he’s trying.

On the last night of August, six days after their little escapade into the city, the first crate of clothing made especially for Prince Changkyun arrives at the palace. Kihyun, the best at sewing, is called to tailor the clothes to Changkyun’s physique. The crate of clothing ends up being a lot more than Kihyun is prepared for, however, because he quickly has to call Minhyuk and Hyungwon to help him sort and fold them as Changkyun tries each shirt on and Kihyun works to get them fitted.

The night is young; it’s not even lunchtime yet, but it’s storming, and the room is darkened by the furious downpour. Every candle in the Prince’s bedroom has been lit to replace the absent light of the moon and stars, hidden by the black clouds of rain splashed across the sky. Hyungwon has to hold every shirt up to the six-candle candelabra just to see the patterns on the various tops. He’s always had good night vision, but this is a little ridiculous.

“Is this room always so dimly lit when it rains?” Minhyuk mumbles, standing up to look at a fabulously expensive double-breasted frock coat in the candlelight. The coat is black as pitch, made of what looks like a blend of linen and cotton. Hyungwon doesn't even have to see it on the Prince to know it'll look quite nice on him.

“Mm,” Changkyun hums, stepping out from behind the changing screen in a black satin tunic with a lace-up V-neck and sleeves that bell at the elbow. The shirt is too big, but still, it looks incredible on him; Changkyun looks amazing in black. His skin is pale and his sharp collar bones stand out on his chest, making his neck look longer than thinner. “I prefer to go elsewhere when it rains. …The library is a good space for reading.”

Hyungwon bites back a smile at the remark. He glances at Prince Changkyun as he moves toward the window that gives off the most light and Kihyun stands and moves behind him, three pins in his mouth. Kihyun works quickly at the tunic, pinning the fabric in various places to better fit Prince Changkyun’s skinny shoulders.

“I want to see it,” Changkyun says suddenly, staring stonily out the window as a fork of white lightning slices the air, flooding the room in brightness for a split second.

“See what, highness?” Kihyun asks around the pin in his mouth.

“Tansu. I want to go to Tansu.”

Hyungwon’s shoulders tense. He hadn't been expecting that. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Minhyuk glance up in surprise, and Kihyun’s fingers briefly still around the black satin before he resumes pinning. 

“Might I ask why?” Hyungwon asks hesitantly.

“Father has never let me see it. It’s the one city in our kingdom I’ve never experienced. I want to see how they live,” Changkyun answers, still staring out the window as if enthralled by the violent storm. “I want to see the damage my father’s inaction has done so I know what to fix. I want to see for myself how your people live; there’s only so much I can learn from reading.” He turns his head to look at Hyungwon, who is watching him carefully. “I want to see where you live. I want to meet your family. Will you show me?”

“Of course, highness,” Hyungwon says softly.

“Then we’ll leave in the morning.”

“It’s at least a day and a half’s journey by foot,” Hyungwon says, surprised at the Prince’s forwardness.

“Then we’ll take a carriage. Do any of you know how to drive one?”

“I do,” Minhyuk replies.

“Wonderful. Get yourselves ready today. We’ll leave at 5 a.m. Ah, but... you can’t resist the sun. Hm. New plan. We leave at 5 p.m. tomorrow. I’ll secure a carriage.”

“You’ll be gone the entire day,” Kihyun warns quietly. “Perhaps we should tell someone...”

“They won’t notice I’m gone. If it will make you feel better, then I allow you to tell Seokjin-sii, but _only_ him and make him swear to keep it secret unless we’re not back in two nights.”

“I suggest telling the King.”

“Why in God’s name would I do that?” Changkyun turns around to face Kihyun, annoyed.

Any movement in the room stops as all three heads turn to face Changkyun in surprise. Hyungwon hadn’t been anticipating this response, and apparently neither had Minhyuk or Kihyun. They’ve been working in the palace for nearly two months now, and he’s still never seen the King in person. He’s also never talked about the King to or in front of Prince Changkyun. He’s not quite sure what to make of Changkyun’s reaction.

“If he’s aware we’re going to Tansu, you won’t be punished for getting caught sneaking out.”

“I’m going to need a lot more convincing than that. I don’t _get_ caught sneaking out.”

“It’s only a precaution, highness.”

“Fine. I’ll ask him if I can take a carriage. But be warned, if he says no, we’re going to go to Tansu anyway. At the very least, _I’m_ going to go to Tansu.”

“Yes, highness.”

Hyungwon, Kihyun, and Minhyuk learn two things that night: Prince Changkyun is very stubborn when he finds something to be passionate about; and his relationship with his father might be less than great.

* * *

It turns out they are right. Changkyun’s relationship with the King is not good.

Kihyun, Hyungwon and Minhyuk had followed Changkyun out of his room as soon as they were finished fitting and tailoring all of the shirts, waistcoats and tunics, which had taken a good three hours, and after a brief late lunch, had wandered through the palace in search of the King until they found him, alongside Namjoon and Seokjin, in the library. They walk as a group down the spiral staircase, several feet away from where the King is standing over a pile of books that have been dumped unceremoniously on the stone floor.

Changkyun gives a haphazard bow as he approaches, but Kihyun, Hyungwon, and Minhyuk immediately go to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the floor in deep respect. They remain close to the staircase while Changkyun waltzes right up to the King, stopping only a few paces away. Kihyun, Minhyuk and Hyungwon wait to be told to do something.

It’s not the King who tells them to get up, though. It’s Changkyun who snaps, “Stand.” And they do.

“Father,” Changkyun begins shortly. 

King Byungwook, standing with his back to them, gives no acknowledgement of Changkyun’s presence. Namjoon and Seokjin nod at them in greeting and bow at Changkyun, but they both look worn out.

“I want a carriage,” Changkyun says curtly.

“To where?” King Byungwook drawls, and his voice startles Kihyun. It’s deep, deeper than Changkyun's, and laced with hostility.

“To Tansu.”

“Tansu?”

Kihyun swallows. Changkyun’s hackles visibly rise, and then the King turns around to face them. Kihyun looks down for a moment, unable to even look the Vampire King in the face, but he steels himself, and glances up.

Byungwook doesn’t look anything like Changkyun. His hair is short, shorn close to his head, and his face is ugly, lined with age and the weight of centuries. He’s got a bit of facial hair and his lips seem permanently pulled into a nasty frown.

Kihyun wonders how someone so blatantly unhappy and ugly could father someone like Changkyun, who, when pushed right, can be a radiant presence. 

He looks deeper for a moment. Changkyun and Byungwook have the same eyes, but they.. don’t. Byungwook’s eyes are droopy and old, sharpened with distaste and disdain, and Changkyun’s are young and filled with a spark Kihyun hasn’t seen before. Changkyun regards his father defensively, and Byungwook stares at Changkyun like he’s a pest, a persistent thorn in his side.

“Why would I let you go to Tansu?” King Byungwook asks. His voice is calm, but there's undercurrents of venom in his tone.

“Why not?” Changkyun asks sharply. 

“Why would I let the people there see you're a failure just as I am? You want them to have faith in our line, don't you? Going there and showing your face would ruin your chances.”

Changkyun pauses, staring at his father as if formulating a response. Byungwook stares back, his gaze deadly cool, as if daring Changkyun to argue with him. 

“You won’t stop me from going.” Changkyun spits.

“Is that a threat?” Byungwook curls his lip.

Changkyun doesn’t dignify the taunt with a response. Instead, he turns on his heel, begins walking towards the library stairs. He looks up and nods at Kihyun in a way that he guesses is supposed to mean, ‘I told you.’ But what that means, Kihyun doesn’t know. He hadn’t foreseen this interaction at all.

“Why do you want to go to Tansu, anyway?” Byungwook snarls. “To flounder among the grime and pitiful? You feel you have a place there?”

Prince Changkyun stops walking. Byungwook turns his back on him again, drifting towards another bookshelf.

“You’ll not go to Tansu. You might be useless to me, but you’re still royalty. Save your dignity, won’t you?”

“Why don’t you care?” Prince Changkyun bites out.

Byungwook stops dead in his tracks. All movement in the room freezes. Kihyun feels his heart drop to the floor in shock and next to him, he hears Seokjin suck in a breath. He keeps his gaze on his shoes, but watches intently from the corner of his eye.

“Why doesn’t their suffering matter to you? Some of them barely have enough to keep themselves alive!” Changkyun’s voice shakes in frustration.

“That’s not my fault,” Byungwook replies, his voice low and deadly.

“It _is_ your fault! When you came to the throne, they looked at you with hope. They were struggling! They _needed_ you! And you pushed them to the edge and _watched them fall!_ ”

“Don’t you yell at me, boy,” Byungwook growls, whipping around with a dramatic snap of his cloak. Changkyun reels back a little, but holds his ground. Kihyun silently begs him to walk away from the argument. This can’t end well. 

“Then answer my question,” Changkyun seethes. “Why are you so selfish? Why doesn’t their plight bother you? They’re _your_ people!”

Byungwook just glares at the Prince, his gaze steeled with sharp anger.

“You’ll not call me selfish in my own castle,” He snaps, voice loud and booming.

“You _are_ selfish,” Changkyun retorts angrily. “You only care about yourself and Mother’s portrait.”

_CRACK!_

Kihyun bites his lip to hold in a gasp as the King smacks Changkyun across the face, suddenly only mere inches from where the Prince stands. The sharp sound echoes through the large space and Changkyun stumbles back from the force of the hit. 

“Don’t ever talk to me that way again. If you ever talk about her like that, if you say her name, boy, I swear you’ll never get the throne,” Byungwook snarls in his face. “You think the people of Tansu will want to see your face? Hear your words? _You_ , the son of someone like me? You’re useless. I would trade you for her in a heartbeat.”

The terrible words hang in the air like a heavy fog and Kihyun is absolutely stunned. He’s so angry, but he feels so awful; this is all his fault. This entire confrontation has gone horribly wrong and it’s his fault.

Changkyun looks up at Byungwook then, cheek bright red where the King struck him, and Kihyun’s heart dies a little at the defeated glimmer in his eyes. The spark Kihyun saw earlier is gone. All the fight has left his young body. The flame has been extinguished.

“I know you would,” He mumbles, then moves past his father and begins approaching the steps to the grand double doors at the top level. 

“Pathetic,” Byungwook spits, and turns back around. Namjoon and Seokjin keep their gazes on the floor.

Changkyun glances at Kihyun as he reaches the staircase, and it only takes Kihyun a split second to register the tears sparkling in Prince Changkyun’s eyes. He bows his head as he begins ascending the spiral stairs and Kihyun, Minhyuk and Hyungwon hurry after him, taking the steps two at a time to keep up. The snap of the doors closing echo through the empty hallway.

* * *

Changkyun walks so quickly down the dim hallway Kihyun struggles a bit to keep up with him, and he nearly slams into the Prince when he stops walking entirely. Kihyun opens his mouth to ask what the matter is, but Prince Changkyun is looking at something in the room to his left and when Kihyun glances up to see what he’s staring at, his stomach sinks. Hanging above the fireplace in the room to the left, the room that leads to the main corridor and towards the Main Tower, is the epic ink painting of Changkyun’s mother. 

The painting is enormous, bordered in real gold. Tiny crystals line the golden border. The woman herself is unspeakably beautiful, with luscious dark hair pulled into a braided ring at the base of her head. She stands in a forest grove in a gown of burgundy and gold, an easy smile upon her thin lips. 

Very rarely, when Kihyun is making his evening rounds, before the Prince wakes, when he passes this room he can see the silhouette of the King standing before the portrait, staring into the late Queen's inky black eyes on the old canvas. 

The King gazes at her in with such a longing, as if trying to bring her back with his stare alone. Right now, Changkyun stares at her with ice.

“I want to be alone right now,” He mumbles. 

Kihyun doesn’t think he should leave the Prince alone, not when he’s so clearly hurting. He at least wants to apologize and treat the bruise already forming on the Prince’s cheek, but he doesn’t get a say in this matter. Changkyun asks so little of them as it is. Kihyun can at least grant him some time to himself.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Kihyun replies softly, and he and the two next to him bow deeply before turning away.

Changkyun remains where he is, staring emptily at the radiant painting above the mantle, as Kihyun leads the other vampires to where he knows everyone else will be—the kitchens. 

He feels so terrible. That entire confrontation wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t said anything. He and the other two had been entirely unaware of the abhorrence of the relationship between the Prince and the King, but it all seems so obvious now. Prince Changkyun almost never speaks about his father and any time he’s brought up, his mood sours like spoiled milk. How could Kihyun have missed that?

It nags at him the entire time as he makes his way through the palace and he’s relieved to see the Head of Staff standing right at the kitchen threshold, Jungkook at his side.

The two are talking lowly together, leafing through a stack of papers, but they both look up as Kihyun, Minhyuk and Hyungwon approach.

“Well, if it isn’t the three musketeers,” Seokjin jokes half heartedly upon making eye contact, then his face falls a little. “How is the Prince?”

“He asked to be left alone,” Kihyun replies quietly, and Seokjin’s expression dampens more. “Is there anything you need us to do right now?”

“Let me take a look.” Seokjin glances back down at the papers that Jungkook is holding. 

Jungkook looks between Seokjin and Kihyun, bewildered. He hadn’t been present for the Prince and the King’s clash earlier. Come to think of it, none of the other servant staff had been there. The only ones who witnessed it were Namjoon, Seokjin, Minhyuk, Hyungwon, the guards who just happened to be there, and Kihyun.

“There’s nothing I need from you at the moment,” Seokjin answers after flipping through the small stack. “You’re welcome to take a break, if you’d like. I know you three have laundry to do. Tell you what, I’ll make sure the three of you are left alone until sunrise. Just make sure you’re there as soon as the Prince needs you.”

“Thank you, Seokjin-hyung,” Kihyun sighs, relieved and ever so thankful for the head attendant’s kindness. Seokjin smiles weakly at them and nods their dismissal, but then Namjoon approaches them, and Yoongi trails behind. Kihyun isn’t sure where they’d come from, but they’re wearing matching grim expressions, and Namjoon gives them a curt nod in greeting.

It’s clear that the two wandered over to ask Seokjin for something, but now that he’s here, Kihyun can’t help but ask, “does His Majesty... do that often?”

“Hit the Prince?” Namjoon asks bluntly.

Jungkook’s expression sinks at the revelation. Kihyun nods, dreading the answer.

“The nights that they don’t interact at all are the good nights.” Namjoon says. The words are vague, but the answer is clear enough.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

Namjoon’s face twists into an unreadable expression. “About the King? No. He doesn’t listen to me or anyone else. Really, it’s a miracle I still have a job.” Namjoon glances around and leans closer to Kihyun, voice dropping several octaves. “If we could do something about the way the King treats the Prince—or anyone else, for that matter—we would have, a long time ago. The Prince is not the only one awaiting the King’s death or removal.”

Kihyun winces. 

Namjoon and Seokjin both give him tight smiles that look more like grimaces, and Yoongi’s expression stays unreadable, yet forlorn. Kihyun is starting to see just how unhappy everyone in the palace is, even the staff. In Yangjin, he'd always been under the impression that life within the walls of Sarisong is bright. To the rest of the Kingdom, Sarisong is home to the happiest people in the Kingdom, but also the wealthiest. The citizens of the Vampire Kingdom, as closed off from the City of Riches and Ganghae Palace as they are, are blissfully unaware of the realities of the kingdom as a whole. Citizens in Tansu are starving and angry. Yangjin and Ryudeok are losing wealth at a remarkable pace, and Sunbaek is committing the crime of overfishing. For centuries, the City of Riches and the castle had been a symbol of better life, of wealth, of happiness.

But the truth is, Sarisong is just as unhappy as the rest of the Kingdom. The only difference is they can hide their problems under a blanket of jewels and gold.

He hopes Changkyun can fix it. He knows he can. But for now, they just have to hang in there.

Kihyun feels a hand rest on his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, Ki,” Minhyuk mumbles.

Kihyun shakes his head, despondent. It _is_ his fault.

“Why would it be your fault?” Namjoon tilts his head.

“I was the one who suggested he tell the King he wants to go to Tansu,” Kihyun confesses sadly. “I thought... if he told the King, he wouldn’t get into trouble for trying to sneak out.”

“The Prince doesn’t get in trouble for leaving the palace because no one goes looking for him,” Yoongi says monotonously.

Kihyun has figured that out already, but the words still hit him like a kick to the chest. He bites his lip, desperately fighting back the tears that threaten to rise to his eyes. 

“You.. know?” Hyungwon asks softly, sounding a bit aghast.

Namjoon, Yoongi, and Seokjin nod wordlessly. Kihyun feels dizzy; he feels like crying. They know he leaves the palace. They just _don’t care._

“You can go now, boys,” Seokjin says kindly, but his voice is strained. “Take a break.”

“Thank you, Seokjin-hyung,” Hyungwon and Minhyuk answer at the same time, and Kihyun is grateful they answered for him. He might have burst into tears if he tried to open his mouth.

As they turn away with a slight bow, Kihyun hears Jungkook ask, “is the Prince all right?”

Seokjin responds, “the poor boy is never truly okay, is he?”

“..No. I suppose he isn’t.”

* * *

“He doesn’t deserve to be treated that way,” Minhyuk mumbles, for the fourth time, from his bed. He’s sprawled on the mattress, blankets folded around his slippered feet. 

“There’s a lot of things he doesn’t deserve,” Hyungwon replies, also for the fourth time. His nose is buried in a book on sewing, propped on its spine against the metal foot of his bed. He lies on his stomach on the comforter, fiddling with a needle and a strip of cloth as his eyes dart back and forth across the aged print.

Kihyun agrees, silent as he carefully folds one of Minhyuk’s shirts, warm and fresh from drying in the summer morning air. It’s getting late, almost 9 am, and he’s already washed, dried, and folded his own share of the laundry a while ago. But since neither Minhyuk or Hyungwon seemed eager to do theirs, and Kihyun needed something to do, he kindly decided to fold theirs as well. It’s getting harder to keep his anxiety at bay. It’s been nearly four hours since the throw-down in the library and not a peep has been heard from Changkyun. It’s possible he could have gone to bed, but one of the three attendants is usually called to help him get ready for bed. The fact that not one of them has been called to assist him or at least talk to him is worrying.

Kihyun is also worried that the Prince blames him for the argument. Minhyuk and Hyungwon both assured Kihyun that it absolutely is not his fault, but he can’t help but feel like that entire interaction wouldn’t have happened if he’d just kept his mouth shut. He has to remember it’s not about what he wants. If the Prince wants to go to Tansu in secret, Kihyun needs to be quiet and let him.

Every time he thinks they’ve made a little progress with the young Prince, a step or two towards gaining his trust, something like this happens and he shuts down, closes them out, vanishes for hours. Perhaps that’s what he’s used to doing. Perhaps it’s because he knows no one will bother to go after him, as Yoongi had said so bluntly earlier.

Kihyun makes his decision then. He’s let this go on for far too long.

Minhyuk and Hyungwon both look up as he stands sharply, plunking the wicker basket of Minhyuk’s folded laundry on his dresser, and reaches for his attendant coat.

“Where are you going?” Minhyuk asks, propping himself up on his elbows.

“To check on him.”

“Is that really a smart thing to do?” Hyungwon inquires softly, fingers still around the strip of fabric. He’s woven the needle in and out of the cloth so many times, hundreds of little holes littered the design.

“I don’t care if it’s smart or not. I’ll bet I’m the first to ever try to make sure he’s okay after something like this happens,” Kihyun remarks, pulling his arms through the sleeves. “I care about him. It’s hard for me to believe anyone else does, really.”

“I’ll come with you,” Minhyuk is on his feet before Kihyun can retort. Hyungwon snaps the sewing book closed, also making to stand. Kihyun watches and fumbles to come up with something to stop them, but both of them are already hurrying to get dressed, and he gives in.

“Alright, then. Hurry up.”

Ten minutes later the three vampires stand outside the door to Changkyun’s bedroom. Minhyuk carries a small cup of Changkyun’s favorite tea on a tray, crafted to the Prince’s liking, while Hyungwon holds a small book in his hands. On the way from the kitchens after acquiring the tea, Hyungwon had produced the book from his coat and explained to them how he’d seen Changkyun gazing at it in one of the stores during their secret visit to downtown Sarisong three nights prior. Hyungwon had spent his own money on the book and was waiting for a moment to give it to the Prince, as he noticed it hadn’t been in the Prince’s personal collections.

Kihyun swallows, then raps four times on the door. There isn’t a response. He tries again. More silence. He casts an unsure glance at Minhyuk, about to knock a third time, when,

“Who is it?”

Changkyun’s voice, faint and shaky, floats through the heavy door.

“It’s Kihyun,” Kihyun calls back. “And Minhyuk and Hyungwon.”

There’s more silence. For a second, Kihyun thinks the Prince might be ignoring them. But then,

“What... are you doing here?”

He sounds closer to the door. His voice seems clearer, but still unsteady, as if he’s been crying. Kihyun guesses he probably has been.

“We came to check on you.” Kihyun replies.

The door opens. Changkyun stands at the threshold. He’s changed into his pajamas by himself at some point and his face is a bit red, eyes puffy. He looks over the three of them, then his eyes land on the book and the tea. His lips pull into a pained frown.

“I don’t need you to look after me,” He grits out, refusing to look any of them in the face.

“At least have some tea,” Kihyun tries. 

“I don’t want any.”

“We’ll leave it here, then,” Minhyuk replies cheerily and places it on the little table against the wall a few paces away from the doorway. Changkyun watches him, his jaw clenched.

Hyungwon holds the book out so Changkyun can read the title. His eyes light up in recognition, and for a hopeful moment Kihyun thinks he might take the book.

His hopes are dashed when Changkyun pushes the book away and closes the door in their faces. Hyungwon looks slightly dejected, but he hands Minhyuk the book so he can place it on the tea tray next to the cooling cup.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, your highness,” Kihyun calls, hopeful of a response.

When there isn’t one, the three of them leave in silence.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. First of September. 1889._

The next evening, after a day of fitful, restless sleep, Changkyun leaves his bedroom in the early evening to find the tea splattered and dried into the carpet on the hallway floor, the cup smashed to bits and the metal tray bent out of shape, the book gone. He knows who’s done this, and he bites his lip until copper pools on his tongue to prevent himself from crying out in frustration. 

When he looks around for the book, fearing it had been torn or worse, he finds the book lying open, face down on bent pages, by the wall toward the opposite end of the hallway. He hurries over and picks it up, and after a frantic moment of smoothing out the crushed pages he finds, with relief, no other extreme damage to the novel. Before anyone can find him, before anyone can stop him from keeping this little sliver of happiness, he rushes back into his room and hides the book in the secret compartment of his desk. 

If it’s there, he’ll always know where it is.

* * *

Earlier that same afternoon, at 5 p.m., Kyungsoo is the first to rise, as usual. After bathing and dressing himself, he enters his own palace, the kitchens, at five minutes to 6. There’s a lot of food to cook, and everyone in the palace will be awake by 10 pm. He spends the remaining five minutes to 6 lighting candles and filling the room with flickering faint orange.

It’s only once he makes his way to the pantry to find potatoes and fish for Seokjin and Namjoon, the other early risers in the castle, does he notice the basket perched on the end table next to the doorway. A dark blue linen is draped over the basket, hiding the contents. His curiosity is piqued, and he pulls the linen down to reveal two large glass bottles. Under closer inspection, he realizes what each bottle is, and what’s inside. His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

In absolute awe, he gingerly picks up one of the bottles, reading the label again and again to ensure it says what he thinks it says. _Kangjun Noir._ He’s holding a bottle of some of the most expensive and best-tasting blood wine known to vampires. It’s named after where it’s made—Kangjun turns blood into wine. Kangjun Noir is what the royal family will gift to neighboring kingdoms; it’s the pride and joy of the Vampire Kingdom. It is simply... unparalleled. And he’s got two bottles, right in front of him.

He looks around for a note, for anything that will direct him to whoever is responsible for the purchase of the priceless blood, but all he finds is a tiny folded letter. He’s extra careful as he puts the bottle down to read the paper.

_**Save this for a special occasion. But don’t wait too long, and share it with everyone.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please don't plagiarize/repost my work. Comments and kudos are appreciated~


	3. Chapter 3: Burn It Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Changkyun proves himself to be more headstrong than they thought. Whether or not this is a good thing, though, is still up for debate.

**Chapter 3: Burn It Up**

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. First of September. 1889._

The staff holds a small birthday celebration in the early evening of Jungkook’s birthday, before either the King or the Prince wake up. He’s officially the same age as the Prince, and Hyungwon learns that the two were born in the same year—1799, just months apart. It occurs to Hyungwon as Jimin and Taehyung sing Jungkook ‘happy birthday’ that he doesn’t know when Prince Changkyun’s birthday is. He decides he’ll ask someone later; for now, they should focus on Jungkook.

The kid’s ears are bright red when Hyungwon zones back into the conversation. Taehyung and Jimin aren’t being subtle at all—they’re singing loudly and proudly. Taehyung’s voice is rich and deep, whereas Jimin’s is high and clear. They’re vastly different, and yet they harmonize so well.

Hyungwon realizes with a jolt that he doesn’t have anything to give Jungkook, but a quick look around tells him that not many others do either. To his pleasure, though, he finds that Jungkook appears to be basking in the bliss of having his friends around him. The boy seems incredibly easy to please, and Hyungwon finds that his smile, toothy and scrunched like a bunny, seems to lift everyone’s mood a little in any situation. By the time the little celebration is over and Hyungwon is delivering Prince Changkyun’s breakfast to him, he’s in a great mood.

His mood dissipates, however, when he wanders into the Prince’s hallway and the first thing he sees is the teacup from last night smashed into bits. He approaches tentatively; the teacup is destroyed, and there’s dried tea in the carpet. The tray, despite being almost solid gold and silver, is bent nearly in half. The book is nowhere to be found.

Did Prince Changkyun do this? His heart sinks even further at the thought. He wants to believe the Prince doesn’t have a destructive temper, but if he’s anything like his father... 

He decides to clean up the mess as best he can after delivering the Prince’s meal. He gingerly picks up the biggest porcelain chunks and places them on the table by the door, then picks up the tray and knocks four times against the mahogany. 

“Come in,” The Prince’s voice carries quietly through the wood, and Hyungwon pushes his way inside.

“Good evening, your grace,” He says softly, bowing with the tray in hand. “I’ve brought your breakfast.”

Prince Changkyun is still in bed, though, when Hyungwon straightens. He doesn’t get up or even sit upright as Hyungwon walks up the steps towards his bed.

“I’m not feeling well,” Prince Changkyun mumbles, and Hyungwon feels surprise curl in his stomach. 

He takes a detour and places the tray on the dresser, then tentatively approaches the Prince’s bedside. He tries to check Prince Changkyun over, but he can’t really get a good look at him due to the darkness in the room. 

“Whatever is the matter?” He asks, reaching for one of the many boxes of matches on the bedside table. He strikes a match, trying to ignore how Prince Changkyun watches him the whole time, and lights the candelabra mounted on the wall above the bedside drawer.

“My head aches,” Prince Changkyun murmurs. Hyungwon takes another moment to light a few more candles in the room, flushing the dark space in orange light, before returning to the bed to survey the Prince’s condition.

Prince Changkyun doesn’t look right, but he doesn’t seem dreadfully ill, either. He’s paler than usual, with red rings under his eyes. Hyungwon wonders briefly if he should feel his skin for a fever, but decides against it out of respect for Prince Changkyun’s personal space.

“Do you feel feverish?” Hyungwon asks. “Nauseous?”

“Not really,” Prince Changkyun says with a sigh. “Just... my head is pounding. I’m tired.”

Hyungwon bets he is, after what had happened last morning. Hyungwon already feels sympathy pang in his heart as the memories of the previous morning return. Now that he remembers the red, teariness of Changkyun’s face when they’d brought him tea the morning before, he figures the headache is likely from the obvious crying. 

“You should try to eat,” Hyungwon says, disregarding the gnawing at his heart as he turns away from the bed and heads for the food on the dresser a few paces away. “At the very least, drink something. It will return your strength. You should try to sleep more after you have something to drink. The head chef, Kyungsoo-ssi, prepared lion blood for you this morning.”

“I know the name of our head chef.” Changkyun mutters, but he sits up as Hyungwon brings over the chalice of blood. Hyungwon doesn’t miss the way he winces once he’s fully upright.

“Are you dizzy?” He asks gently, handing him the cup.

“A bit.”

He watches carefully as Changkyun sips elegantly from the goblet, calm and poised even when clearly unwell. His mind is reeling, but he bites his tongue and waits for Changkyun to ask him for something.

“Leave the food and the blood,” Changkyun says and he hands Hyungwon the chalice. The Prince only drank a little less than half; Hyungwon worries he’s not able to stomach more. “Send Yoongi-ssi.”

Hyungwon places the food and the chalice on the bedside table, then bows. Prince Changkyun lays back down, and when he keeps silent, Hyungwon leaves without another word. 

Despite it being after 9 p.m., the castle appears to be, oddly enough, still mostly asleep. On his way down the stairs, he passes Jimin and Taehyung, each carrying too-full baskets of fruits and vegetables of various colors, but they’re the only ones he sees the entire journey from the fourth floor to the basement. Everyone else is just... missing.

“Is Yoongi-ssi awake yet?” He asks as he strides into the kitchens. To his surprise, most of the staff is still inside, including Kihyun and Minhyuk. Seokjin is the only one who seems to hear him at first, because he glances up from his book with a questioning expression on his face.

“It’s unlikely,” He says, closing his book. “He tends to stay up late and sleep in. Why?”

Hyungwon takes a deep breath. “Prince Changkyun is unwell this evening. He’s asked me to send for Yoongi-ssi.”

This seems to get everyone’s attention, for a shocked hush falls over the staff. Kihyun and Minhyuk snap their gazes around to look at him in surprise. Seokjin’s expression becomes alarmed and he stands swiftly.

“I’ll take you to Yoongi-ssi then,” He says, his demeanor changing. Minhyuk and Kihyun immediately follow him, and Seokjin leads the three of them away from the kitchens.

“What’s wrong with Cha—the Prince?” Minhyuk asks softly.

“He said he feels tired and has a headache, and is a bit dizzy,” Hyungwon informs them, and then realizes that Seokjin is taking them to a room that seems to be nearby the secret passage Changkyun uses to leave the palace. It takes him a moment, but eventually he does recognize where they are within the palace when they pass the statue of Biyoung the First.

They don’t speak again until they reach Yoongi’s room, tucked away in one of the darkest corners of the fortress-turned-palace. Hyungwon finds it easier to memorize the hidden area now that he’s been here once already. He knows how to get from Yoongi’s room to the secret passage, he realizes once they stop outside a crickedy wooden door.

Seokjin raises his fist and knocks twice on the door. Hyungwon is starting to recognize that the staff have codes—Seokjin hasn’t explicitly stated it, or taught him any, but he thinks he’ll do well to try to recognize them. He just needs to learn what they mean first.

They wait patiently for a response. Seokjin huffs impatiently, and knocks twice again. There’s some muffled groaning from inside.

“Yoongi, if you don’t open the door, I’ll come in anyway.” Seokjin announces loudly.

“No, don’t,” Yoongi’s sleepy voice carries through the door at last. Seokjin steps back, expression a little smug. “It’s so early, Seokjin-hyung.”

“It’s not early. You’re just not an evening vampire.”

“What do you want?”

“The Prince is unwell. He’s asked Hyungwon-ssi to send for you.”

There’s a soft curse, and then a thump and shuffling from inside. 

“Why didn’t you start with that? I’ll be ready in two minutes,” Yoongi calls, sounding more awake.

True to his word, Yoongi is ready and looks as refreshed as someone who just woke up can look when he steps out of his room two minutes later. Hyungwon thinks he looks fine, but Seokjin tuts and begins tussling with Yoongi’s hair. Yoongi glares in annoyance, batting his hand away, and then starts to walk down the hall. Seokjin falls into step next to him, leaving Hyungwon, Kihyun, and Minhyuk to scurry after them.

As they walk, Hyungwon realizes Yoongi is carrying a pouch. It looks like it contains something heavy, and it’s clearly aged—the fabric is a faded red, and the leather string around the lip of the pouch is worn and clipped. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Yoongi asks as the group of five start up the spiraling staircases.

Hyungwon informs him of the Prince’s symptoms, and Yoongi nods along in thought. 

“What will you give him?” Seokjin asks. Yoongi huffs slightly as they step off the stairs on the fourth floor, the Prince’s hallway.

“Something for the pain. If he’s not feverish, then all I’ll be able to do is treat his headache,” Yoongi replies, sounding a little winded. Hyungwon wonders how often Yoongi leaves his room, let alone goes further than two levels up the stairs into the towering palace.

As they step into the short hallway, Hyungwon winces when he notices the tea and the tray still on the floor by the door. From where he stands, he’s able to see Minhyuk and Kihyun, and he watches their expressions fall when their gazes land upon the mess. Seokjin also notices, and gives Hyungwon a weary glance as they get closer to the Prince’s bedroom. He bends down to pick up the other shards of porcelain as Hyungwon knocks four times on the door. He’s a little surprised when the Prince responds with a question.

“Who is it?” 

He doesn’t sound very far away from the door. Hyungwon sees Kihyun and Minhyuk exchange a glance.

“Uh, it’s Hyungwon, your Grace,” He replies. “I have Yoongi-ssi with me.”

“Anyone else?”

“Um,” Hyungwon glances over his shoulder at the other vampires, bewildered. “Seokjin-ssi, and Kihyun and Minhyuk, your Grace.”

“Only you and Yoongi may come in.”

“Shall they stay outside?”

“Seokjin can leave.”

“Very well, your Grace.”

Kihyun, Minhyuk, and Seokjin stand away from the door as Hyungwon pushes it open. He lets Yoongi go inside first, then follows and glances at Kihyun and Minhyuk as he closes the door. They’re wearing matching confused expressions, and as Hyungwon shuts the door, Seokjin turns away, the bent tray and shards of porcelain cupped in both hands, and begins walking briskly back towards the stairs. The great door clicks, and Hyungwon turns around.

To his surprise, Prince Changkyun is perched in the chair at his desk. He’s not dressed, but he looks a little more awake than Hyungwon had last seen him. He’s still a bit pale and is clearly fatigued, but he’s cooperating with Yoongi as the physician checks him over. 

“Do you feel feverish?” Yoongi is asking as Hyungwon approaches. There’s a book open on the desk, and Prince Changkyun’s reading glasses lay next to it.

Prince Changkyun shakes his head very slightly. “Just a headache. I only need something for the pain.”

“How bad is it?”

“What?”

“The pain, your Grace. I don’t want to give you more medicine than is necessary,” Yoongi explains softly.

“It’s all behind my eyes and around my temples. A... dull throb.”

Yoongi nods resolutely; it seems that’s the best he’ll get from the Prince. He sets his pouch down, and several glass objects inside clatter loudly. He pulls open the pouch, fishes around inside, and then he pulls a thin vial of a sparkling white liquid from the bag like he’s revealing a magic trick. He then fishes a little medicine cup like the one Hyungwon’s mother used to use when he or his brother were ill out of the bag, uncorks the vial, and pours the glittering opaque medicine into the cup. Prince Changkyun and Hyungwon both watch in fascination, strangely entranced, before Yoongi hands the medicine-filled cup to the Prince with a dip of his head.

Prince Changkyun knocks back the medicine with practiced ease, grimacing a little at the taste, then hands the cup back to Yoongi. He reaches for his glasses, and places them back on his nose before hunching over the open book on the desk.

“I’d advise you to rest today, your Grace,” Yoongi says gently.

“It’s not like I do much anyway.”

That’s true, Hyungwon thinks, nodding slightly. That’s another thing he hadn’t been expecting when he first started working. Prince Changkyun doesn’t go to any classes, or have anyone to tutor him. Hyungwon often wonders why this is; Prince Changkyun is still incredibly young. One would think that he’s still learning.

“Thank you, Yoongi. You’re dismissed. Send Kihyun-ssi and Minhyuk-ssi in when you leave.”

Yoongi bows deeply, then picks his bag up and turns to leave. Based on the look on his face, Hyungwon is pretty sure the physician is planning on going right back to bed. Hyungwon doesn’t blame him; he’s sure he’d feel the exact same way if he had Yoongi’s job. He’s gotten used to waking up early, but unlike him, Yoongi isn’t needed every day, all the time. He works on his own schedule. Sometimes, Hyungwon envies him.

Yoongi leaves, and then Kihyun and Minhyuk stride in. They both bow deeply, and then Kihyun shuts the door, and both he and Minhyuk move to stand at Changkyun’s side. Changkyun takes his glasses off again and then turns in his chair to face the three of them. He pauses as if surveying them, then opens his mouth to speak.

“I hope what you witnessed the other morning didn’t, um, shake you.” He begins, slightly awkwardly.

“Not at all, your Grace,” Kihyun answers for the three of them, calm and even. 

Hyungwon is glad. He really doesn’t know what to say. In truth, the King’s outburst the previous morning had shaken Hyungwon to his core. He’s never seen such violence among family members. Namjoon had said to them, “the nights they don’t interact are the good nights.” And Hyungwon doesn’t doubt that at all.

“Then I hope you understand I’ll still be going to Tansu.” Changkyun replies.

Hesitancy washes like a tidal wave over the three of them, but Prince Changkyun looks like he was expecting that. He glances between them as if trying to read them, but Hyungwon waits for him to elaborate. Does he want to go alone, or does he want them to come with?

“I... want to give you a choice.” He says, tilting his chin up. “If you wish to accompany me to the city, I will gladly accept your company and your help. If not... then I will make sure you are kept silent about my whereabouts.”

It sounds vaguely like a threat, but Hyungwon doesn’t doubt the sincerity behind the statement. Aside from the three of them, Namjoon, Yoongi and Seokjin, no one else seems to know the truth about Prince Changkyun’s disappearances, and the Prince seems highly keen to keep it that way. Hyungwon doesn’t blame him, really, even if he doesn’t quite understand why he feels the need to sneak out, and not just leave. He’s still having a hard time figuring out the relationship between the Prince and the King. It’s not good, obviously, but what else is there? Why would the King react so strongly to the idea of Prince Changkyun leaving for just a few nights?

Hyungwon waits for Prince Changkyun to continue, but his gaze has turned expectant, like he wants an answer from all three of them at that moment.

“I should gladly accompany you, your Grace,” Minhyuk says, a hint of eagerness laced within his tone.

“I, as well,” Hyungwon says, surprising himself. 

Prince Changkyun nods at them, and Hyungwon thinks he can see a hint of pleasant surprise in the lines of the young prince’s face. He turns an anticipatory gaze on Kihyun, and both Minhyuk and Hyungwon turn to look at him as well. Kihyun briefly looks like a deer caught in lamplight, but he glances at Hyungwon and Minhyuk, and then back at the Prince, and then he nods hesitantly.

Prince Changkyun lets a small smile grace his handsome face, and then slips his glasses back onto his face. “Good,” He says, pleased. “I’ll tell Jungkook to arrange horses for us. Sleep today. We’ll leave quite early; I want to be gone by five in the afternoon.”

Hyungwon winces internally at the early time. He glances at Kihyun to see if he’ll make a comment on being gone too long, but Kihyun seems to have learned his lesson—he keeps his mouth shut, Hyungwon notes with a slight pang in his heart.

“I understand Tansu is far away,” Changkyun says slowly, as if already anticipating this question. “At maximum, we’ll be gone two nights, assuming everything goes smoothly. Admittedly, I’ve never gone farther than Sarisong and never spent more than a night away from the castle, and I do understand you’ll be missed by much of the staff. I want one of you to make Seokjin-ssi aware we’ll be leaving. Only Seokjin. No one else. Jungkook will know we’ll be gone because I need him to ready the horses, but they are the only ones who can know.”

“Yes, your Grace,” Hyungwon mumbles with a dip of his head.

“Where shall we meet you, Highness?” Minhyuk asks quietly.

“I’ll rouse myself and get dressed. Meet me at the stables. Bring a small satchel and don’t wear your attendant uniforms. When we arrive in Tansu, you’ll address me by my name only.”

Hyungwon can’t wrap his head around calling Prince Changkyun simply by his name, but he nods agreeably anyway. Prince Changkyun pauses, watching them like he expects more questions, but when they stay silent, he sits back in his desk chair, and regards the three of them with a look Hyungwon can’t read. “That will be all for now. Thank you. Oh, and tell Jungkook I wish him a happy birthday.”

Before leaving the room, Hyungwon retrieves the tray of food he’d left on the dresser earlier. Prince Changkyun hasn’t touched the food, but the goblet of blood is empty and Hyungwon guesses he can live with that. They file out of the room in a line after bowing deeply, and as Hyungwon replays the entire interaction in his head, he can’t help but wonder what he’s gotten himself into.

* * *

“Wait, what? _Me?_ ”

“Yes, Jungkook.”

“Are... are you sure he was talking about me? What about another Jungkook?”

“There’s only one Jungkook in this palace and it’s you, kid.”

“And... the _Prince_ knows _my_ birthday?”

Kihyun nods for the third time. Jungkook’s eyes are the size of dinner plates. Kihyun supposes he can understand why Jungkook is so surprised—from the sounds of things, Prince Changkyun only interacts with the staff when it’s absolutely necessary. And that means he never interacts with the staff. Kihyun finds it amazing that Prince Changkyun knows Jungkook’s name, let alone his birthday. He wonders if Prince Changkyun knows anyone else’s birthday.

However, Jungkook’s birthday is, regrettably, the last thing on his mind. His thoughts are whirling as he scrubs dishes at Kyungsoo’s command. He tries to think about something else, but there’s nothing more interesting happening in his life at this point than the fact that the Prince is planning to secretly visit another city entirely and Kihyun is going with him. 

Seokjin strides into the kitchen at that moment and Kihyun remembers with a jolt he’s been instructed to tell Seokjin they’ll be gone. Before he can get Seokjin’s attention, though, Jungkook immediately pounces on the oldest vampire, excited words about the Prince’s birthday wishes leaving his lips in a panicked flurry. Seokjin watches with a bewildered expression. Despite himself, Kihyun feels a smile come to his lips at the stable boy’s excitement.

“The Prince wished you a happy birthday?” Seokjin repeats incredulously.

“Yes! Kihyun-ssi said so!”

Seokjin glances at Kihyun for confirmation. Kihyun nods, and Seokjin’s incredulous expression turns bemused, and he ruffles Jungkook’s hair. The youngest gives an indignant squawk, hurrying to fix his hair, and Seokjin heads towards the furniture across the room where all the dishes are kept.

“Seokjin-ssi,” Kihyun mumbles as Seokjin brushes past him on his way to the line of hutches against the far wall. Seokjin pauses, and lowers his head to hear Kihyun better. “I need to speak with you privately later.”

Seokjin gives him a concerned look, but nods nonetheless. “Find me after the Prince has his lunch. I’ll be alone in the laundry room.”

Kihyun nods, and as Kyungsoo bustles back into the kitchens, he resumes scrubbing the plates.

* * *

After Hyungwon returns to the kitchens from delivering Prince Changkyun’s midnight meal, Kihyun slips away from the staff area and heads across the bottom floor to the laundry room, the big stone cellar next to the equally cold and dreary room he and Minhyuk and Hyungwon call their bedroom. The laundry room door is open slightly when he approaches, and he pushes inside to find Seokjin standing with his back to him at the table, filling one of the wash basins with warm, sudsy water. He turns as Kihyun enters the room, and gives him a gentle smile.

“Is everything all right, Kihyun-ah?” He asks kindly.

“Yes, Seokjin-ssi. I—”

“Hyung.”

“S-Sorry?”

“You’ve known me long enough; you can call me ‘hyung.’”

“Oh. Thank you, Seokjin-hyung.”

“You’re welcome. Now, what did you need to tell me?”

“The Prince plans to leave the castle at five in the afternoon.”

Seokjin’s expression turns unreadable. “Um, all right. Why are you telling me? You’re not going to try to stop him, are you?”

“No, no,” Kihyun says hurriedly. “It’s just.. He’s going to go to Tansu, and he wishes for Hyungwon, Minhyuk and me to accompany him.”

Seokjin pauses, and takes a deep breath. “Tansu. That’s... far away.”

“Yes.”

“I... okay. If he wants to leave, he can. I’m sure he has a plan.”

“He told me to tell you, but no one else.”

“The Prince is going to Tansu?”

Kihyun jumps as Yoongi strides into the room, his arms around his own basket of dirty laundry. Horror pools like a snake in Kihyun’s stomach. Had he really been talking so loudly? Now what is he supposed to do?

“Still?” Yoongi asks, expression falling when Kihyun doesn’t confirm or deny it, too startled to try to think of a response. “Even after the row yesterday morning?”

“He, um, is determined,” Kihyun says weakly. “There’s some things he wishes to see in the city.”

“You mustn't tell anyone, Yoongi, or try to stop him.” Seokjin says, his tone low and serious. Yoongi nods agreeably.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Yoongi mumbles, dumping his laundry onto the table next to Seokjin’s bucket of water, ignoring Seokjin’s deadpan.

“I don’t understand why he only wants Seokjin to know,” Kihyun admits, turning his attention to the pile of laundry. “It’s as if... he’s terrified to be found out, terrified to leave the castle and yet so determined to explore the Kingdom. If only we could convince him to make more public appearances. Perhaps he wouldn’t seem so hidden to the public.”

“You think he stays within the confines of this palace simply by choice?” Seokjin asks quietly. “Did his row with the King yesterday morning show you nothing?”

Kihyun snaps his head up to look at them. The older vampires are watching him with crestfallen expressions.

“There’s a reason he _sneaks_ out, Kihyun, and doesn’t tell the King and take a carriage and a set of guards,” Yoongi supplies sorrowfully. 

“What’s keeping him here?” Kihyun asks hesitantly, not quite sure why he’s asking. He thinks he already knows the answer.

He’s right. Instead of answering him verbally, Yoongi and Seokjin turn their heads to look at the monstrous oil portrait of King Byungwook, hanging above the fireplace mantle on the other side of the room. Whereas there’s not a single portrait of Prince Changkyun anywhere other than in the throne room, there’s paintings of Byungwook in nearly every room in the palace, with the exception of staff bedrooms and the kitchens. 

It’s like King Byungwook is trying to erase Prince Changkyun’s existence both inside and outside the walls of the palace.

“When are you four leaving?” Seokjin asks, his tone resolute, as if he’s already come to terms with the fact that he cannot, nor should he try to, stop them from going.

“His highness wishes to leave by five in the afternoon.” Kihyun doesn’t miss the wince Yoongi gives at the early hour.

“How will you get there? Not on foot, I hope?”

“That would take a week,” Yoongi mutters. It’s an exaggeration. The Kingdom isn't terribly large, but Kihyun is glad they won’t be walking either way. 

“Um, horseback.” Kihyun replies.

“Then Jungkook will also be aware,” Seokjin warns, and Kihyun nods; he knows that already. 

“We’ll be gone two nights,” Kihyun says. “I believe his Grace wanted me to tell you because he trusts that you will keep his secret. Forgive me for being blunt, but I’m under the impression that you’ve known of his Grace’s… _activities..._ for a while, now.”

Seokjin nods, and Yoongi does too. Kihyun sighs internally. 

“The Prince passes my room on his way out, sometimes,” Yoongi says. “I would have found out sooner or later. He’s never told me about it, but I’m sure he knows I’m aware. Seokjin knows because Prince Changkyun used to tell him personally when he would plan on leaving. It seems that now that he has you, and you’ve managed to befriend him, he’s also entrusted his secret to you.”

For some reason, that brings warmth to Kihyun’s heart.

“It’s vital that the King does not find out,” Seokjin murmurs thoughtfully. “If his Majesty or Hoseok ask about Prince Changkyun, I shall tell them he is ill.”

“I will provide support if they are suspicious,” Yoongi says. “I’ll say I’ve ordered him bedridden.” Seokjin gives him an appreciative nod.

“The staff will be told that as well,” Seokjin says, glancing at Kihyun. “That will also excuse your absences. We’ll tell them you’re with him.”

Kihyun watches the conversation like a tennis match. Seokjin and Yoongi speak so freely about defending Prince Changkyun. They’re crafting lies to protect him, to keep his secret safe from the wrath of his own father. It’s done with practised ease, like they’ve done it before. This makes Kihyun curious as to how long they’ve known Prince Changkyun’s secret, and how long he’s been doing it.

He’s dismissed a minute later when there’s no further questions and Kihyun leaves the laundry room feeling as though the weight of a thousand years has been lifted from his shoulders. Prince Changkyun may be suffocated and hated by his own father, but at the very least, he’s got five or six staff members who remain in his corner.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The Second of September. 1889._

Hyungwon wakes up at four-thirty in the afternoon thanks to Kihyun, who aggressively shakes him awake after apparently trying for fifteen minutes to wake him up. The sun is still in the sky and as Hyungwon scurries to get ready to leave, he tries his best to stay away from the windows. They each pack a satchel each, leaving their uniforms hidden in their bathroom, and as a group, leave the room dressed in the most casual, plain tunics and pants they own. Hyungwon had previously expressed the importance of blending in around Tansu; none of them are sure what Changkyun plans to do there, or what behavior they should expect from him. Regardless, whereas Hyungwon only owns very simple clothing, Kihyun and Minhyuk tend to wear less plain clothing. They’ll stand out like sore thumbs if they wander around the shanty towns of Tansu in navy, forest green, or other colors.

They sneak silently out to the stables and Hyungwon winces at the waning heat of the sun. It’s early September, meaning the cursed sun won’t set for another two hours or so. Hyungwon had brought his darkest cloak to protect him from the rays, but he’s not sure if he can last two hours on horseback under the sun. He’s always been pale.

When they reach the stables, Prince Changkyun is already there, and Hyungwon can see Jungkook’s silhouette inside the barn. As they approach, Prince Changkyun, wearing the plainest clothes Hyungwon has ever seen, turns to look at them, and nods very slightly by way of greeting. Minhyuk, Hyungwon and Kihyun go to their knees once they’re near him, and only stand back up when they hear the jingle and clang of horse reins.

Jungkook gives them all a wide-eyed expression as he leads two horses in their direction, like he’s silently pleading for an explanation of any kind. He also looks uncomfortable under the sun, and Hyungwon can agree; his skin is prickling unpleasantly.

“Thank you all for being on time,” Prince Changkyun says, his tone blank but gracious.

“Permission to speak?” Jungkook squeaks timidly. Prince Changkyun nods. “Um, wh-when can I expect you back, my Prince?”

“Hopefully sometime tomorrow night, if all goes well,” Prince Changkyun says.

Jungkook nods, looking as though he’s a bit too terrified to ask anything further. He hands the reins of one horse—a mare, dark and tall—to Prince Changkyun, and then gives Kihyun the reins for the other horse, a muscular brown stallion. He turns to go back into the stables, presumably to fetch two more horses, and when he passes Hyungwon he asks under his breath, “Where are you going?”

“Tansu,” Hyungwon whispers back without thinking.

Jungkook’s eyes grow as big as saucers, but he continues to hurry towards the stables to retrieve the other two horses. Hyungwon gazes at the gorgeous black mare in Changkyun’s grip. She’s a beautiful horse, with glossy black fur that allowed her to blend in with the night and a charcoal mane, soft and tangle-free and dripping over the side of her neck like spilled ink. The brown stallion in Kihyun’s hand is bigger than the black mare, and his fur is thicker. He’s muscular, with long, bulging legs thickened from what Hyungwon guesses is years and years of running.

Hyungwon loves horses. His family has three, and seeing these gorgeous creatures reminds him of home. Suddenly he’s awash with feelings of longing, and a dull ache grows in his heart the longer he stares at the horses as they whine and fidget. The brown stallion in particular reminds him of his horse back home; a miniature pony named June. He misses his family the more he thinks about it. 

He suddenly remembers Prince Changkyun asking to meet his family. He wonders if—he hopes—the Prince hasn’t forgotten that request. Hyungwon wishes to see his family probably more than anything at this point.

Jungkook comes back quickly with two more horses; the one on his left is a speckled beauty, dark brown with white and black spots splashed across her back. The horse on Jungkooks’ right is grey, the color of a slab of stone, and looks bigger, and stronger than all the other horses. Jungkook silently gives the reins of the speckled horse to Hyungwon, and Minhyuk gets the grey stallion. All of the horses are already saddled and ready to go, and Hyungwon admires them all.

“What are their names?” Hyungwon can’t help but ask, petting his horse gently on her soft nose. He glances at Prince Changkyun; the Prince is watching his own horse with slight apprehension. The black mare stares right back at him.

“The black mare is called Byeol,” Jungkook says, looking delighted that Hyungwon asked. Hyungwon doesn’t doubt the kid is passionate about horses; he wouldn’t leave Kangjun to care for the royal family’s horses if he wasn’t. “She’s gentle, but fast. She’s a purebred. The brown stallion is Haenguni. He used to race; he enjoys going slow, then will trot or jog to catch up. The speckled appaloosa is Makki. She’s the youngest in our barn, and the King bought her from the American Vampires across the sea. She’s a sweetie. Our big grey horse here is Hoesaeg. He was an equestrian stallion before her Grace, the late Queen Dahye purchased him.”

Hyungwon glances again at Prince Changkyun, but he doesn’t react at all to the mention of his late mother or his father. The young heir seems trapped within a trance, staring at Byeol, almost excited, almost nervous.

It strikes Hyungwon then that the Prince probably hasn’t ridden a horse recently. He’s been working in the palace for nearly three months and he hasn’t seen the Prince do much aside from leave the palace to go to Sarisong every now and again.

“How long has it been since you’ve ridden a horse, your Grace?” He asks gently.

“Too long,” Prince Changkyun replies, and then Jungkook notices his apprehension.

“Byeol is very calm, compared to our others,” He rushes to assure the Prince, and moves to stand near them. “She’s the easiest to ride.”

As if trying to prove him wrong, Byeol dances anxiously where she stands and tosses her head, her mane of ink billowing in the late afternoon air. Jungkook bites his lip, apparently bewildered at her nervous behavior, but then Prince Changkyun raises a hand and strokes her long, glossy neck. Byeol whinnies, then stands still.

Hyungwon watches in fascination as he calms her with just his touch. Once she seems less finicky, Prince Changkyun puts his right foot in the stirrup. With a great heave, he swings himself over the saddle and with only a little wobble, settles on the padding on Byeol’s back. Jungkook hurries forward to tighten the saddle, then steps away.

Prince Changkyun looks regal atop the horse. His dark grey-black hair glimmers in the sunlight, as does Byeol’s, and they look like they were made for each other.

“Hurry,” Prince Changkyun says to the attendants. “We need to leave before the sun goes down. We haven’t a second to lose.”

* * *

The group leaves the palace a few minutes after five o’clock in the afternoon, and after seeing them off, Jungkook heads back into the palace. He let them out of the stables through the back gate, and Prince Changkyun leads the party with Hyungwon on his left, Kihyun on his right, and Minhyuk behind him. The party ducks into the shade of the forest as soon as they can, and they begin their long journey to the city of Tansu. 

Prince Changkyun seems to be aware of their thin-skinned nature without them having to remind him, because he waits until they’re safely under the rich canopy of the forest before he silently passes around the map he’s drawn up to highlight their way to Tansu. They have to go through the gates of Sarisong to get out of the city, but once they do, they’ll follow Gyeongpo Road, the street that connects Sarisong to Yangjin. There’s more than one way to get from Sarisong to Tansu, of course, but Tansu more or less sits in the heart of the Kingdom, and all major cities, including Sarisong, form a lopsided ring around it. They’ll need to go through Yangjin to get to Tansu from Sarisong if their goal is to make haste.

The harshness of the sun is mellowed while they walk in the forest, but they reach the gates of Sarisong before the sun has set completely and Hyungwon braces himself for the sun exposure they’re sure to face. The guards stand at the gate, half asleep, and let them out without issue. Hyungwon, Kihyun and Minhyuk endure about twenty minutes of sunlight before the orange orb finally hides itself away, and as darkness falls, Hyungwon feels his skin stop itching and burning. Hyungwon’s wrist watch reads six in the afternoon when the sun relents. 

They ride quickly, and mostly in silence. Instead of walking, the horses trot and jog and in the warm summer air, the soft breeze from being atop the horse cools him down. Hyungwon had suspected they would walk along Gyeongpo Road rather than on it, but Prince Changkyun apparently had different ideas. The road is wide and expansive, with enough room for carriages and horses and vampires on foot to travel comfortably. They walk on the road itself, and the four of them keep the hoods of their cloaks up when carriages rattle by and people on horses and on foot pass them. Hyungwon doubts anyone would recognize Changkyun as the Prince, given how long it’s been since he made a public appearance, but he guesses they should rather be safe than sorry. If anyone recognizes him and news gets to the King that Changkyun is no longer in the castle, it will be bad for all parties involved.

In addition to being long, the road that connects Sarisong to Yangjin is not unpopulated, but also quite barren. There’s small neighborhoods and little communities with stores and restaurants in between each major city, but aside from tiny shops, houses, and rest stops, there’s not a lot to see. Much of the Vampire Kingdom’s population densely occupies the eight major cities—Dahye, Tansu, Sunbaek, Ryudeok, Haegye, Kangjun, Sarisong, and Yangjin—but there are vast forests, mountains, and plains in the unoccupied parts of the Kingdom. The natural beauty of the environment keeps Hyungwon’s thoughts until they reach Yangjin.

They’ve been riding for about four hours by the time they reach Yangjin and Hyungwon’s wrist watch reads ten in the evening. His eyes glimmer with the lights of Yangjin and the moon hangs in the sky, powerful and bright, overlooking the glowing city. Yangjin is much a bigger city than Sarisong, with twice the population and buildings. Sarisong is the least populated because so few can actually afford to live there, and Yangjin is about as middle-class as the Kingdom can get; hence why it’s the most populous city in the Kingdom. Hyungwon only vaguely remembers passing through Yangjin on his way to the castle a few months ago. His thoughts back then had been too anxious to properly allow him to take in the sights, so he relishes in the beauty of the city while he can.

He’s starting to get thirsty, though, and he’s glad when Prince Changkyun pulls off the road and dismounts Byeol. He stretches for a moment, then turns to his attendants.

“We’ll take a break to get something to drink,” He says, and Hyungwon slides off Makki’s back obediently. Prince Changkyun waits for Kihyun and Minhyuk to do the same, and once they’re all on the ground, they walk with their horses towards a small restaurant. There're several wooden logs stacked outside the restaurant, a place for travelers to tether their horses, and after safely securing their four horses to the logs, Prince Changkyun leads them inside.

The restaurant is small and quaint, and they don’t spend much time there. They each buy a drink—actually, Changkyun has them all try owl blood, and despite their protests, spends his own money on their drinks. The owl blood is delicious and certainly rejuvenating; Hyungwon feels much more awake after he’s downed the whole glass, but it doesn’t give him the adrenaline high the human blood had, and he wonders if anything he ever tastes will ever come to equivicate the flavor and feeling the human blood had given him. 

“Your Grace,” Hyungwon begins, his fangs tingling slightly at the leftover blood in his mouth, and Prince Changkyun looks at him before he realizes his mistake. “Ah, um, I mean—Ch-Changkyun?”

It both sounds and feels awkward, and all four of them cringe slightly. Despite the clear discomfort at being called by his name, Prince Changkyun nods in acknowledgment, allowing him to continue.

“What did you have in mind to do in Tansu?” Hyungwon asks gently.

Prince Changkyun pauses for a moment. “I’d like to meet your family.”

Hyungwon nods, trying to ignore the relief he feels in his heart. At least he’ll be able to see his mom, and hopefully his brother. He’s not sure if his dad will be there; he works intermittently, picking up jobs here and there. If he’s lucky, all three horses will be at home too.

“I don’t want to stay long,” Prince Changkyun continues, his voice low enough for only the three of them to hear. “I want to be there just long enough to explore; to see how people live. We’ll stay the day when we get there, but I want to be back home by six am tomorrow night. I don’t care about what will happen to me if we get caught, but I have you three with me. I don’t want you to be punished for my actions and if we’re caught, you will be.”

“Your gra—I mean, Changkyun,” Minhyuk speaks up, again wincing as the Prince’s name falls awkwardly from his tongue. “If I might ask, why do you want to see how the citizens live?”

Prince Changkyun looks around to ensure no one is looking their way before leaning close to the table and answering. “I want to know what I need to fix.”

At first Hyungwon doesn’t understand, but then he recalls what Changkyun had said to them before the fight he’d had with the King. Prince Changkyun desires change. He wants to help people, wants to help people like Hyungwon, whose paychecks go directly home to help his family get food on the table.

Hyungwon’s attitude towards the Prince has changed dramatically since they first met and it’s not even been three months. Already, he regards Prince Changkyun with friendly affection. There’s still much about Prince Changkyun he has to learn, but the Prince is radiant, when he wishes. He’s passionate, and moral. He wants so badly to do the right thing.

Hyungwon will do whatever he can to help Prince Changkyun achieve that goal.

* * *

It’s nearing two a.m. when they finally reach Tansu, and with every step Makki takes closer to his home, he feels his heart start beating faster. The image of the tiny hanok his family shares flashes in his mind and with it comes the picture of his mother, standing at the stove, and his brother in the backyard with their horses, and his father’s wrinkly smile as he wanders into the little home with whatever he managed to bring home from the market. His heart clenches, and a wistful smile crawls onto his face before he can stop it.

“Hyungwon,” Prince Changkyun calls. They’re approaching the wooden gate to the city. The wood is still rotted and old as Hyungwon remembers it, and the name 탄수, painted in flaking red across the dark wood, shines meekly in the light from the lanterns hanging on either side of the wooden structure. Compared to the tall, grandiose and complex _giwa_ roofed gate of Sarisong, Tansu’s gate just looks.. sad.

“Yes, your grace?” Hyungwon replies quietly. He’s close enough to the Prince where if they speak at normal volume no one on the ground can hear them, but he still stays quiet and respectful.

“Where is your home?”

“I’ll take you there, your grace.”

“Is it big enough for us all to rest when the moon goes down?”

Truthfully, Hyungwon doesn’t know the answer to that. It’s not like his family is expecting them, at all, and he really should start to brace himself for whatever reaction his mother will give in response to meeting Prince Changkyun. There’s no way he’ll be able to lie to his family about his identity, and while he does know his family has extra padding for makeshift beds, he’s not quite sure if the tiny hanok they live in will be big enough for three more.

“I don’t know, your grace,” Hyungwon answers honestly, his voice low.

Prince Changkyun doesn’t reply and Hyungwon can’t see his expression. As they wander towards the gate, the two gatemen approach them.

“Please dismount your horses,” The first man says, and waits for all of them to comply. Once all four of them are steadily on the ground, he opens his mouth to speak again. “Just visiting, or...?”

“We’re from Yangjin. We’re dropping by to visit a friend,” Hyungwon lies smoothly. He doesn’t recognize the gatemen, which means they probably don’t know who he is either; Tansu isn’t a very big city, but Hyungwon doesn’t know everyone who lives in the town. Thankfully, though, neither of the men seem to recognize Prince Changkyun, which is a relief for Hyungwon. It has been a concern in the back of Hyungwon’s mind since they left the palace.

“You don’t sound like you’re from Yangjin,” The second gateman says slowly, and Hyungwon’s heart skips a beat in shock. He fumbles to come up with an excuse, but to his surprise, Kihyun beats him to it.

“He wasn’t raised in the city,” Kihyun speaks up, letting his Yangjin accent seep into his voice. It’s the first time Hyungwon has heard Kihyun speak freely in his Yangjin satoori. “We were. He’s taking us to visit a family friend of his.”

Minhyuk and Prince Changkyun nod easily in support of Kihyun’s explanation, and, slightly appalled, Hyungwon does as well. The second gateman watches them warily, then glances at his partner, who shrugs.

“All right. Go on in,” He says tiredly, and then he and his partner move out of the way. “Please remain off your steeds when walking along the main roads.”

Hyungwon leads the way into the city, gently pulling Makki along with him. The horses are probably tired and hungry. He knows his farm will have horse feed and, if they’re lucky, fresh carrots. 

As Hyungwon leads the party of four through the winding streets of the shanty town, he’s uncomfortably aware of the way Prince Changkyun, a few paces behind him, looks around at everything. Hyungwon can’t read the expression on his face.

There really isn’t a lot to see. Poorly-made wooden _hanoks_ line the street; none of them have the sleek, tiled roofs that the mansions and apartments in Sarisong or Yangjin do. The roofs on the homes in Tansu are thatched and piled with straw. There’s not a lot of people; Tansu doesn’t have a high population, but everyone in Tansu is considered lower class. The vampires that walk the gravel paths of Tansu are dressed plainly. Vampires in Sarisong would never wear tan or black or white; they all wear rich reds, greens, purples and blues, topped off with little jewels and sequins to show off their status. Tansu citizens are humbled by their situations, and despite their poverty, Hyungwon is proud to say that Tansu natives are some of the kindest, most selfless vampires in the Kingdom.

After all, Tansu citizens are united. They share a common enemy—Prince Changkyun’s own father.

A terrible clatter comes from Hyungwon’s right and then several barrels of what smells like vegetables tumble across the road into their path. There’s a swear, and then a vampire with a young face and a head full of black fluff stumbles after the barrels, a flurry of apologies falling from his tongue.

“Let us help you,” Prince Changkyun says, hurrying forward. He casts a meaningful glance over his shoulder at Hyungwon and Minhyuk, who give the reins of their horses to Kihyun and rush to help the Prince and the kid roll the barrels out of the street.

“Thank you,” The kid breathes wearily as he stands one of the barrels on the side of the road.

With the four of them working, all the barrels are soon cleared out of the road and standing back up on the lip of the street. The kid bows deeply to them in appreciation, a tired smile on his face.

“What’s in these?” Prince Changkyun asks, giving the stack of barrels a once over.

“Broccoli, sir,” the kid mumbles. “And carrots.”

“Who do you work for?” the Prince turns his curious gaze onto the boy, who blinks at him.

“I work for my father’s vegetable garden, sir. You’re not from around here, are you?” the kid asks, tilting his head.

“You could say that.” Prince Changkyun says, reaching into the inside pocket of his cloak. He produces a small coin bag that jingles as he lifts it, and tosses it at the boy. The boy catches it, eyes as wide as Jungkook’s. His eyes grow even wider as he opens the bag and counts the money inside.

“Sir, I can’t possibly—”

“Please, take it,” Changkyun holds up a dismissive hand. He doesn’t give the boy a chance to argue any further as he turns to Kihyun and holds a hand out for Byeol’s reins. Kihyun hands him the leather strips with a smile.

They continue their journey to Hyungwon’s house soon after, and Hyungwon can’t stop replaying the scene in his mind. Prince Changkyun doesn’t have access to the palace’s vaults, where they keep the riches and gold that belongs to the royal family—the vault is locked with a key that King Byungwook carries on his person at all times, and there’s a second padlock on the vault with a passcode that, again, only the King knows. And yet. not only does Prince Changkyun somehow get his own money, he also gives it away freely. Hyungwon wonders what he’ll do when he’s finally King. How generous will he be once the crown is his?

A few more steps, and then they turn a corner, and there, up ahead, is his home, and the top of a little hill towards the forest. His heart swells at the sight of the little _hanok_ —the familiar thatched roof and the “Chae Family” sign stuck in the ground before the door. He and his brother had made that sign decades ago, when they were still naive little children. He can see two out of three family horses in the farm in the backyard the closer they get to the hanok, and his mother’s slim silhouette slides past the cloaked front window.

“This is your home?” Minhyuk asks eagerly, looking around. The great big weeping willow—his mother’s pride and joy—hangs gracefully over the front door. Hyungwon nods.

“It’s not much,” Hyungwon says, bliss coloring his voice. 

“I think it’s wonderful,” Prince Changkyun murmurs, and Hyungwon bites back a smile.

They’re only about two feet away from the gate to the farm when the front door bangs open and his mother, dressed in the same brown skirt, white tunic, and stained apron she always wears, stands on the front steps. Her hair is curly and short and her face, wrinkled with age, breaks into a grin at the sight of him.

“Hyungwon-ah!” She cries, then hurries down the broken stone steps.

“Mom,” He says, and then she’s on him, snagging him in the tightest hug he’s been in in a while. He breathes in her scent as he hugs back.

“Dad! Hyungwon is back!” Kyungwon’s voice, faint but blissfully near, echoes around the yard, followed by his dad’s shocked, “what??” And then both of them appear at the gates to the farm. Kyungwon leaps over the fence, ignoring their dad’s shouts.

“What are you doing back here so soon?” His mother is asking as Kyungwon approaches, footsteps thunderous against the green earth. “You didn’t tell me you were coming! You didn’t lose your job, did you?”

“No, no,” Hyungwon’s face hurts from grinning so hard. “I’ll explain once we’re all inside. Can we tie up the horses? We’re all exhausted.”

It’s only then that his mother notices his companions, and her mouth drops open. Kihyun, Minhyuk, and even Prince Changkyun bow respectfully to her. Kyungwon tackles Hyungwon from behind before Hyungwon has a chance to explain, playfully shouting in Hyungwon’s ear.

“All right, all right! I missed you too,” Hyungwon says, and Kyungwon, who has grown a remarkable amount despite it only being three months and towers over Prince Changkyun and Kihyun, finally slides off his back just as Hyungwon’s father hobbles over. His limp has gotten worse, Hyungwon notes, but he grins just as wide as his mother did when he brings Hyungwon into a one-armed hug.

“And who are these young men?” His father asks, gesturing at the party behind him. “Lovely horses you lot have.”

“Are you Hyungwonnie’s coworkers?” His mother asks, ignoring the way Hyungwon groans at the pet name. 

“Yes we are, ahjumma,” Minhyuk replies with a grin. “I’m Minhyuk.”

“Kihyun,” The older vampire introduces himself, also smiling warmly. 

“Wonnie-yah has told me all about you two in his letters. It’s so good to finally meet you. And you are?” Hyungwon’s mother turns a grinning, expectant face to Prince Changkyun, who pauses. Hyungwon feels his breath leave his chest, wondering what the Prince will do.

“My name is Changkyun,” He says slowly, his voice soft.

The reaction is instantaneous. The smiles drop from his family’s faces and are replaced with expressions of varying levels of horror and shock. His mother is the first to go to her knees despite standing on the rough gravel, and his brother follows. His father, struggling with his bad hip, gets as far as one knee bent before Changkyun raises his hands to stop them.

“No, please. That’s not necessary,” He says hurriedly. Hyungwon’s family freezes, looking at him in surprise. “Please, stand back up. Can we go inside?”

The question is directed at Hyungwon and accompanied by a slightly nervous glance.

“Of course,” Hyungwon’s father says, but he sounds like he can’t even begin to comprehend what is even happening. “Seungah, please take our guests inside. Hyungwon and I will tether the horses and get them something to eat.”

His mother nods numbly, and Hyungwon takes the reins from Prince Changkyun and Kihyun as well. Minhyuk gives his horse’s reins to Hyungwon’s father, and then his mother and brother lead the Prince and his attendants to the house. As soon as they’re out of earshot, his father turns to him.

“You brought the Prince to our home?” He says. He doesn’t sound angry, but he doesn’t exactly sound pleased with Hyungwon, either.

“His grace wanted to see Tansu,” Hyungwon explains quietly as they guide the horses towards the farm. “And he wanted me to show him where we live.”

“Why?” His father hisses, and unhooks the gate. Hyungwon lets him go first, leading Hoesaeg into the fence, before pulling Byeol, Makki and Haenguni inside as well.

“It’s not my place to answer that question,” Hyungwon replies. His father gives him a furious look, and it clicks in Hyungwon’s mind what the problem is. “Father. Wait.”

He takes his father’s free hand, makes him look him in the eyes. “I know how you feel about our King.”

“He’s not _our_ King,” His father retorts angrily.

“Prince Changkyun is different,” Hyungwon whispers, voice shaking in earnest. “He lives a sheltered life, father, but not because he wants to. Nobody knows he is here, father. What kind of cruel person would come all the way here to mock us? He’s here because he wants to help us, not laugh at our situation.”

“What can he do to help us? It’s been sixty years since anyone has seen him in public,” His father shoots back, and he’s starting to sound less angry and more scared. “Don’t fall in love with his words, son. Promises can and will be broken.”

“Prince Changkyun hates King Byungwook,” Hyungwon shakes his dad’s hand, pleading for him to understand. “Give him a chance, please! He wants to help Tansu. He wants to fix the kingdom. Please. He’s not like the King.”

His father still doesn’t look like he believes him, but he doesn’t say anything else and they tether the horses up in silence. After filling a bucket with horse feed and hooking it to the wooden fence bordering in their farm, he and his father head inside.

Whatever his mother is making for lunch smells delicious, and she’s in the middle of explaining how Hyungwon sends his paychecks to them when Hyungwon and his father wander inside. Kihyun, Minhyuk and Kyungwon are seated at the table, and Prince Changkyun is standing. He’s listening to Hyungwon’s mother talk with deep interest, but it also seems he’s trying to ignore the way Kyungwon is staring a hole into his forehead.

His mother nods at him with a nervous smile, and his father takes the fourth seat at the table, wincing as he slowly sits down. The house falls into silence as she wraps up what she was saying, and the silence quickly turns awkward.

“Forgive me for such an abrupt appearance,” Prince Changkyun says suddenly, and all eyes are on him. “I.. have been wishing to see Tansu for decades.”

“There’s not a lot to see,” Kyungwon says, and his tone is a bit bitter. Hyungwon tries to send him a warning glance—he may not like him, but he’s still the Prince—but either Kyungwon misses his attempts to catch his eye or totally ignores him.

Changkyun dips his head; it seems he’s somewhat expected their defensiveness. 

“When I become King, helping Tansu is my main priority,” He reveals. “I have seen what I need to fix. What I need to change.”

“And how will you help us?” Kyungwon demands. “We’ve been suffering for centuries. What will you do to change that?”

“Kyungwon!” Hyungwon snaps, appalled at this behavior. Kyungwon is like him; they’re both very laid-back. He understands that Kyungwon is distrustful and angry, but speaking to the Prince like that can get them all in trouble.

“It’s a fair question, Hyungwon-ssi,” Prince Changkyun says gently. He doesn’t look angry or affronted in the slightest; his expression is neutral, a little sad. “I know I must not have the greatest reputation. My first plan is to repeal the monthly stipends given to our nobility and instead donate it to Tansu. From there I will establish charities.”

Hyungwon’s parents appear to be shocked into silence, and Kyungwon bites his lip. He’s still glaring at the Prince, but he looks more pained than angry.

“The King doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” Kyungwon asks quietly, like he’s afraid to hear the answer.

Prince Changkyun shakes his head. 

“You’re not the only one who wishes death on King Byungwook,” Changkyun says lowly.

The conversation changes course immediately after that statement as his mother, with a bit more force than necessary, slams down a plate of steaming tteokbokki on the table and coerces everyone, including Prince Changkyun, to eat. She begins to fill Hyungwon in on what’s happened in the city since he left, and all conversation about King Byungwook is forgotten, if only just for a few short, blissful hours.

* * *

The sun is beginning to rise and Tansu is starting to fall asleep as Hyungwon makes makeshift beds on the floor of his room. He’d offered his bed to Prince Changkyun three times, but the Prince had declined every time, claiming that bedding on the floor would be enough. Despite his discomfort that the Prince is sleeping on the floor, he’s looking forward to sleeping in his own bed for the first time in a few months. 

Kihyun and Minhyuk are already lying down on their pallets when Hyungwon gets up to wish sweet dreams to his parents. To his surprise, Prince Changkyun is in the kitchen with his mother, and Hyungwon hides against the wall before he’s seen by either of them.

“Your son is safe with me,” Changkyun is saying as Hyungwon tunes in. “I promise it.”

“How can you promise?” His mother asks. Her voice is wobbly, like she’s going to cry.

“I’ve never had attendants like them before,” Changkyun confesses. “They’re the first people I can call my friends in my entire life. Even if all odds are against them, I will protect them.”

The words warm Hyungwon’s heart, even though he doesn’t quite understand what Prince Changkyun means, but he feels worse for eavesdropping and forces himself to turn away from the kitchens and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth instead. In the single bathroom of their house, he finds his brother, slowly brushing his own teeth. His eyes are cloudy, like he’s lost in thought, and he doesn’t react when Hyungwon knocks and enters.

“Do you believe him?” Kyungwon asks around his toothbrush as Hyungwon reaches for his.

“Believe who? What? Don’t talk with your mouth full of toothpaste.”

“The Prince,” Kyungwon whispers, then spits out his toothpaste. He gazes at Hyungwon through the mirror.

“About what he plans to do?”

Kyungwon nods.

“Yes, I believe him.” Hyungwon says as he smears toothpaste on the bristles of his brush. “I know it might be hard right now, but I promise you.. He’s looking for ways to fix this. He didn’t come all the way to Tansu for no reason, Kyung-ah. I know you don’t know him like I do, but really.. He’s just as hateful of his father as we are.”

He takes Kyungwon’s hand, but to his surprise, Kyungwon looks away, his eyes red and his face scrunched.

“I believe in the Prince,” Hyungwon says lowly. “I’m his friend. I’ll do what I can to help him achieve his goals if it means it will help us. I believe his words are true.”

Kyungwon glances back at him in the mirror, and his eyes are teary. “I don’t want to be hungry anymore.”

Hyungwon brings his brother into a hug, his heart stinging. 

“He will fix it.” Hyungwon says. “He cares for us, for the people. I know it. I just know it. We just have to wait.”

“For how long?” Kyungwon asks brokenly. “We’ve been waiting our whole lives.”

“That’s one of the pitfalls of being immortal,” Hyungwon replies. “And that’s no one’s fault. But I believe in the Prince, Kyungwon. I believe he will help us.”

“If you believe him, then I do, too,” Kyungwon whispers, pulling away. Hyungwon smiles at him; Kyungwon gives a teary smile back, and then vanishes down the hall.

It’s only as Hyungwon is brushing his teeth, thinking to himself, that he realizes his own words are true.

* * *

_Chae Family Household, Tansu. Third of September. 1889._

Kihyun wakes the next evening early. He hadn’t really been able to relax enough to fall asleep, too busy trying to sleep with one eye open in case the King has sent someone after them. He feels unrested, but he hasn’t slept properly in a while, so he guesses he’s not unused to the feeling.

He looks around. Minhyuk is still out cold on his pallet on the floor, and Hyungwon is sleeping deeply in his bed.

Prince Changkyun’s blankets have been pushed back, and he isn’t in the room.

Already panicked, he leaps to his feet and shoves on his slippers. The sun is setting, indicating it’s about seven o’clock, but aside from the missing Prince, the rest of the tiny house is sound asleep. It’s all he can do to panic as silently as possible, sneaking around the little hanok until he looks out the front window and sees Prince Changkyun standing on the lawn with his back to the house, surveying the scattered homes around him.

His skin prickles as he steps outside, but he hurries to Changkyun’s side.

“Your Grace,” He whispers, and Changkyun turns at the sound of his voice. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” He answers, just as quietly. “You’re up early.”

“My body’s clock doesn’t let me sleep much later than this,” Kihyun says with a little laugh. 

Prince Changkyun gives him a soft smile, and Kihyun smiles back. He turns to look at the city, and he feels Prince Changkyun’s gaze linger on him for a moment before he, too, fixes his attention back on the town.

They stand in silence; Kihyun isn’t sure for how long. It’s not uncomfortable. Kihyun has long since stopped feeling tense in Prince Changkyun’s company, and he hopes the feeling is mutual.

“Kihyun,” Prince Changkyun begins. 

Kihyun glances at him in question. Prince Changkyun’s chest heaves in a deep breath.

“Thank you,” He says. Kihyun cocks his head. “I... was dreading going to Tansu alone. I am so used to being by myself. Taking Hyungwon with me to Sarisong that night...”

He trails off, dipping his head. Kihyun waits patiently for him to elaborate.

“I can’t say I’ve ever truly had a friend,” Prince Changkyun continues eventually. “But I am glad that the first people I can call my friends are you three. I’ve never met anyone quite like you all. I hope you’ll stay at my side.”

“We’ll stay at your side as long as you’ll have us, my Prince,” Kihyun says. And it’s the truth. 

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The Third of September. 1889._

After Hyungwon’s mother feeds them a breakfast of eggs and cooked vegetables, they explore the small market of Tansu for about two hours before leaving the little city at around ten p.m. and don’t stop until they get to Sarisong. They make it back to the palace before the sun is in the sky, luckily, and sneak back inside unseen by everyone except for Yoongi, who nods at Changkyun and gets a nod in return. The group of four parts ways at the base of the stairs; Prince Changkyun stealthily heads up to his hallway and the three attendants trek back to their own bedroom, exhausted but invigorated by the trip.

Kihyun feels fatigue seeping into his bones, but he knows the trip will remain a close memory of his. He’ll always remember the side of Changkyun he’d seen over those nights: his generosity, his self-awareness, and his true desire to make lives better. In the castle, Prince Changkyun is a shell, a ghost, a blank face. Elsewhere, he is anything but.

“Your family is wonderful, Hyungwon-ah,” Minhyuk says as he drops his satchel on the bed, and then flops down face first on the mattress. 

Hyungwon doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, so he just smiles at Minhyuk instead, already reaching to unpack his satchel. Kihyun opens his mouth to speak, but the sound of hurried footsteps approaching the room interrupts him. There’s swift knocking at the door before he can reply, and as Hyungwon and Minhyuk exchange a wide-eyed look, he feels himself start to panic. Who could possibly be at the door now?

“U-Um, one moment, please,” Kihyun stammers as Minhyuk leaps up, shoving his satchel under his bed.

“It’s Seokjin,” The head attendant’s voice carries through the door, and Kihyun breathes a sigh of relief. Hyungwon sinks down onto his bed, a hand on his heart.

“You can come in,” Kihyun calls weakly.

Seokjin slips into the room a moment later, closing the door tightly behind him.

“The King asked for Prince Changkyun while you were away.”

Kihyun’s heart thuds to his stomach. “Wh-what?” 

Of course, _of course,_ the one time none of them are in the palace, the King will actually want something to do with Changkyun.

“What does he want?” Hyungwon asks, sounding just as horrified as Kihyun feels.

“I don’t know,” Seokjin shakes his head. “We told him, of course, that Prince Changkyun is ill and unwilling to see anyone until he is better, but the lie will not last forever, especially because we also had to tell him you remained at his side the entire time. I trust you are all back? All physically healthy and fine?”

“Of course, Seokjin-hyung, we’re all okay,” Kihyun replies quietly. “The Prince is fine, too.”

Seokjin’s entire body relaxes, but then he turns to Hyungwon and Minhyuk. “You two, change into your uniforms. Go to the Prince’s room immediately; if Yoongi has not told him what has happened, you will need to. You have an act to play now.”

Hyungwon and Minhyuk obey Seokjin swiftly and silently. Within ten minutes, they’re both dressed to perfection and leave the room quickly. Seokjin watches them with a blank expression, and Kihyun waits for him to tell him to do something.

“I’ve told the King you’re doing his son’s laundry,” Seokjin says to Kihyun after the two have left. “Change quickly. How was the city?” 

“Honestly, the journey was half the trip. We stopped briefly in Yangjin, slept the day at Hyungwon’s house, and explored the shanty town. We left the city around ten so we could be back in time for his highness to have dinner,” Kihyun relays, his voice equally as quiet as he hurries to get dressed.

Seokjin blinks. “You.. went all the way to Tansu so the Prince could _look around_?”

Kihyun’s eyes dart around the room, making sure no one is there to listen or overhear even though he knows it’s just the two of them in the empty room. He hesitantly leans closer to Seokjin, unsure if he should share Prince Changkyun’s plans with the head attendant.

“He told us he wanted to see Tansu so he could learn what he needs to fix.” He mumbles.

Seokjin pulls away and looks at him deeply, as if deciphering what Kihyun has said to him. Kihyun watches as realization dawns on him, and his gaze turns slightly amazed.

“I hope he can fix it,” Seokjin mumbles. 

Kihyun nods. He does, too. He’s never been to Tansu before then and while he’d heard many stories about how Tansu people live, he’s never experienced it for himself. He’s horrified that so many people live the way Hyungwon’s family does.

“You need to go,” Seokjin says then, his demeanor changing entirely. “Yoongi and I can only stall for so long. I’m sure the King isn’t aware of the truth, but as for some of our other staff members…”

Kihyun understands. He rapidly finishes changing and after another nod from Seokjin, practically flies up the four flights of stairs to the Prince’s room. He nearly slams right into Yoongi as he runs into the hallway and with a startled gasp, rushes to steady the surprised physician.

“Yoongi-ssi, so sorry,” He pants. “I didn’t see you.”

“That’s all right,” The physician says, then looks anxiously over Kihyun’s shoulder, and his voice drops an octave. “I’ve told the Prince what’s going on; I trust you know?”

At Kihyun’s nod, Yoongi continues. “You must play the part. Act like you’ve been looking after him for two nights. We’ve kept the King at bay by explaining the Prince’s illness is contagious and I don’t know what His Majesty could possibly want with the Prince now, but until tomorrow evening you must stay out of sight. Keep close to the Prince at all times.

Kihyun nods again obediently. They never should have left the palace; it was too risky. Kihyun had known something like this would happen. If they were caught, they would likely be fired if not otherwise punished, and Kihyun doesn’t even want to imagine how Prince Changkyun will suffer at the hands of his father.

Yoongi glides away, and Kihyun swiftly enters the Prince’s bedroom. Minhyuk and Hyungwon are already there, and he can see Prince Changkyun in his bed. 

“That was quick,” Kihyun mumbles. Hyungwon and Minhyuk nod in greeting to him, and Kihyun can tell they both look a little stressed.

As he approaches, he notices that Prince Changkyun is reading rather than pretending to sleep, and Hyungwon is seated on the floor by the dresser, organizing and refolding the clothing. There’s an array of medicinal bottles on the Prince’s desk, which Minhyuk is scrutinizing as he cleans up the mess of ink, pens, and paper. 

Aside from remaining in the Prince’s bedroom, Kihyun wasn’t given any other instruction, so he quickly finds something to busy himself with—after asking for permission, he begins to reorganize the books in Prince Changkyun’s bookshelves. The books have all been haphazardly shoved into the bookcases, so one shelf at a time, Kihyun takes the books out and alphabetizes them. 

As he does so, he reads the titles of each book and realizes all of the books, with the exception of some fiction, plays, and novels, are historical books, biographies and autobiographies, and other non-fiction accounts of real events and people. Even more interesting, most of the books have little slips of paper folded in between pages. The handwriting scrawled across each slip is almost unintelligible, but it doesn’t take Kihyun long to understand that the pieces of paper are notes the Prince has taken on the topic of the books. He owns three different biographies of King Biyoung the First, and each of the books bulges slightly with the sheer amount of notes pressed in between the pages.

He doesn’t ask the Prince what the books and the notes are for, however curious he may be. The Prince’s personal reading habits are his own. He finishes organizing the second bookshelf as the sun starts to come up, and he stares proudly at his work; he alphabetized each book and separated them by genre spanning over the two towering bookcases on either side of the Prince’s desk. When he glances over at the Prince to see if he’s noticed Kihyun’s hard work, he realizes Prince Changkyun is sound asleep, his current book poised limply between his fingers.

When Kihyun wanders over to take the book and let Prince Changkyun sleep, he pauses when he reads the title of the book.

It’s the book Hyungwon had tried to give him a few nights ago. With a gentle smile, Kihyun bookmarks the page Prince Changkyun had been reading when he apparently drifted off, and places the book in the bottom drawer of the bedside table.

He blows out each candle on the candelabra on the wall and when he turns around, Hyungwon is stretching his hips—he’s probably sore from sitting on the floor for the last three hours—and Minhyuk is closing the drapes above the Prince’s desk.

“Let’s go,” Kihyun mumbles, walking away from the bed. Hyungwon and Minhyuk nod, and then file out of the room. As Kihyun blows the last candle out and leaves the room, he casts one more glance at the sleeping Prince, then shuts the door.

He can only imagine what’s in store for them, and hopes to God everything will turn out okay.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. Second Week of September. 1889._

To Kihyun’s mild surprise, once the King is told of the Prince’s “recovery” from his “illness” he seems to go back to wanting nothing to do with his son. A week and a half pass, uneventful, and for the first time since witnessing the row between the two, Kihyun feels as though the iron band around his lungs has relaxed. He begins to think he is worried for nothing; that he can stop walking on eggshells, that he can stop expecting the King to be around every corner, watching, waiting. He relaxes, blissfully, becomes comfortable in his own uniform again.

Of course, the feeling doesn’t last.

Hyungwon has barely returned from bringing Prince Changkyun’s breakfast to him when Hoseok comes into the kitchens one mid September evening, and everyone immediately knows something is wrong. He’s the King’s personal attendant and has been for years and despite his job, he always manages to smile, and his laugh brightens a room instantly. But this evening, his face is creased in worry, his heart-shaped smile is nowhere to be seen.

“Hoseok-ah, what is it?” Seokjin asks, standing when he registers the paleness of Hoseok’s face.

Hoseok swallows, and casts a nervous glance at Kihyun, standing behind Minhyuk’s chair at the little table by the window. 

“Uh,” He starts, his voice quiet. “The King. He, um, has demanded an audience with the Prince. Immediately.”

And Kihyun’s blood freezes.

“Whatever for?” Minhyuk squeaks, sharing a poorly-veiled look of horror with Hyungwon.

“His Majesty didn’t say,” Hoseok says weakly. “I’m not exactly his closest confidant. But it doesn’t, um, sound... good.”

Kihyun swallows, trying to find his voice. Minhyuk and Hyungwon look at him. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again.

“Well,” He says finally, shakily. “We’d better go, then.”

When they get to the Prince’s room, they find he’s already been made aware of his father’s request and at this point Kihyun can read him well enough to be able to tell he’s nervous. Prince Changkyun does an excellent job of maintaining composure, to give him credit—he has a terrific poker face, one that unsettles even Kihyun on occasion—but Kihyun has learned to read his eyes, and when he looks Prince Changkyun in the face as he helps him dress, he sees the distress hidden under the cold, blank stare.

Something heavy settles uncomfortably in Kihyun’s chest. Up until this point, he’s learned that Prince Changkyun is a quick thinker, and he’s resourceful. He’s learned that he can usually count on Prince Changkyun to have a plan, or at the very least, to come up with one on the fly. To see fear in his eyes, even as skillfully masked as it is, gives Kihyun a sick feeling of instability.

“What will you do?” he asks quietly, tying the lace on Prince Changkyun’s left sleeve while Minhyuk works quickly on the right sleeve.

“Lie,” Prince Changkyun whispers blankly. “I’ll lie.”

* * *

They arrive at the throne room and the King isn’t even there yet, but Namjoon is, and he fixes the four of them with the most pitying look Kihyun has ever seen. He swallows thickly.

This might be it. If the King has somehow found out that they left, it’s over. If they’re not killed, God forbid, Hyungwon will have to go back to Tansu and his family, who is already used to using his paycheck for blood and other necessities, will suffer again. Minhyuk will have to go home, and so will he, to disappointed families, and they’ll become just another number, just another statistic. Just another set of attendants who didn’t last longer than six months.

He doesn’t even want to imagine what will happen to Prince Changkyun.

The King makes his presence known loudly, banging his way into the throne room and Kihyun flinches so hard he stumbles trying to get to his knees. He, Minhyuk and Hyungwon drop to the floor, pressing their foreheads to the icy cold stone, and Prince Changkyun bows deeply as well. 

“I am glad to see you’ve recovered from your disease,” The King spits, and there’s not an ounce of sincerity in his voice. 

Prince Changkyun doesn’t answer. Kihyun decides to follow Prince Changkyun’s lead. It’s clear he’s been cornered like this before; if he’s gotten out of it in earlier instances, Kihyun has faith he can do it again. He may not escape unscathed, but he’ll escape nonetheless.

“You have some very dedicated staff, this go round, don’t you?” King Byungwook continues. “I am told they didn’t leave your side until your fever subsided.”

Everything about King Byungwook’s tone of voice indicates he knows about the lie. Kihyun swallows, feeling sick. Despite the pressure of the pull of gravity making his bowed position extremely uncomfortable, he’s sort of glad his forehead is on the floor. He thinks if he were standing, he would faint.

“Tell me, Changkyun, what do you think of your newest staff members?” King Byungwook asks.

Prince Changkyun hesitates before answering slowly. “They do their job efficiently and quickly.”

Kihyun hears King Byungwook shift. “That seems like the bare minimum to me, though. Doesn’t it? Considering they seem to support your endeavors wholeheartedly?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Prince Changkyun says coolly, and Kihyun is impressed at the level of calmness he’s displaying.

King Byungwook’s tone turns dark. “Of course not.”

There’s footsteps. Kihyun can’t tell where the King is or who is walking, but Changkyun hisses, “stand up.”

Relieved at the pressure being taken off his forehead, Kihyun gets to his feet, and glances at his friends. Hyungwon and Minhyuk’s faces are red, and he’s sure his looks the same. King Byungwook stands a few paces away, his broad back to them.

“Since you seem to trust your attendants so much, I thought I’d give you a gift,” He says, and he turns and flashes the ugliest smile Kihyun has ever seen at his son. “A little… addition to your party, if you will. More to add to your _circle of trust_.”

The words are vicious. He nods at the doors, and four heads turn to see two guards. The one on the left is taller, with reddish hair shorn close to his head, thick lips and thin eyes. The one on the right has orangish-brown hair, a long, sharp nose, and is so handsome Kihyun momentarily forgets his own name. 

Even worse, they’re both so muscular, their muscles bulge more than their armor. They look like they could break Kihyun in half without even trying. 

At first, Kihyun doesn’t understand. Then he realizes they’re wearing black, red, and white.

_No. It can't be._

“These, boy, are your new personal guards,” King Byungwook says grandly, and his smile is dripping with malice. “They’ll be at your side every hour of every night, and guard your door while you sleep. They’re for your protection, of course. To ensure you’re not up to something you shouldn’t be.”

King Byungwook turns his poisonous grin to the two guards. “Introduce yourselves to your new charge, why don’t you?”

“My name is Son Hyunwoo,” The one with reddish hair speaks up first. His voice is deep, in a way that is different from Prince Changkyun’s. 

“Lee Hoseok.” The other one says. His lips quirk up in the tiniest of smiles and Kihyun’s heart screams.

Kihyun can’t even look at them in the face anymore. He’s starting to see red.

Prince Changkyun, on the other hand, looks absolutely unperturbed by the introduction of his new guards. While Kihyun stands behind him, smoldering on the inside, Prince Changkyun looks at his father with a blank expression.

“No need to thank me,” the King laughs nastily. “I hope you manage to befriend your new guards the way you’ve managed to manipulate your staff. Ah, but—don’t forget. You might be their charge, but their loyalty lies with me, not you.”

“As if I’d forget,” Prince Changkyun says lowly, letting a strained smile come to his lips.

The King chuckles darkly, then turns around to leave, his cape swishing around his heels. “Oh, I thought you'd like to know that in addition to your newest guards, I have upgraded the security at every known entrance to this palace. We must keep you safe, mustn't we?"

"Of course," the Prince drawls.

With one last foul smile, the King says, "Have fun with your new toys, Changkyun. Remember what they’re there for, boy. I have eyes everywhere.”

And then he leaves. Namjoon follows the King out, and the guards that wait by the doors close them, the loud snap of the wooden doors sliding shut echoing in the room. Kihyun glances at Minhyuk and Hyungwon. They’re both staring at the guards, a few feet away, and the two guards are staring right back at them. 

There’s a moment’s hesitance from everyone in the room. The guards are the ones who end up moving first, striding side-by-side across the grand room to go to their knees before Prince Changkyun.

“We are honored to serve you, Your Grace,” the one named Hyunwoo says.

Prince Changkyun doesn’t acknowledge either of them. His gaze is cold, steely—Kihyun hates it. It’s too much like the gaze he wore when they first met, months ago. He feels like they’ve been brought back to square one. 

Prince Changkyun has entrusted them to secrets about his goals and his plans and it hasn’t been easy to gain that. Kihyun has seen sides of Prince Changkyun he’s sure no one else has ever dreamed of seeing. He’s seen Prince Changkyun smile, he’s seen him behave generously, he’s seen him at some of his most vulnerable points. He and Minhyuk and Hyungwon have worked so hard to establish a relationship with the Prince, to give him something he’s never had before—confidants. They've worked tirelessly to become people he can trust.

And these men come and ruin it. 

Prince Changkyun turns his dull gaze from the two guards, still on their knees, and looks at the spot on the floor where the King stood just minutes before.

“I hate you.” Prince Changkyun whispers. 

And Kihyun does, too.


	4. Chapter 4: House of Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changkyun, Kihyun, Minhyuk, and Hyungwon grapple with the presence of the new guards. The attendants learn more about their Prince. The King throws a party. Changkyun doesn't escape unscathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehe if you can find the vampire pun you're my favorite

**Chapter 4: House of Wolves**

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. Mid-September. 1889._

Curse how handsome the new guards are, Minhyuk thinks as he unfolds one of Prince Changkyun’s tunics and dips it in the warm, soapy water. He doesn’t want to like them, but they both have incredibly nice faces. Hyunwoo especially.

Kihyun hates them. He hates them both; he’s made that very, very clear. He gets agitated around them, antsy, almost nervous, and he speaks to them curtly when he has to speak to them. Minhyuk doesn’t necessarily think his hostility towards them is completely unwarranted, but it’s not like they’ve done anything yet to really tick him off. But Kihyun is headstrong nearly to a fault and trusts his own instincts, and there’s not a lot Minhyuk can do to try to change that.

Minhyuk can’t tell how Hyungwon feels about them, on the other hand. The youngest in the staff still has yet to say more than two words to them; he acts as though they’re not there, most of the time. He works around them, swiftly and silently. Kihyun has made it crystal clear he can’t stand either of the new guards, but Hyungwon is more or less of an enigma about it. 

Prince Changkyun is, too. He also has not said much to either guard. Minhyuk has gotten used to being able to read the Prince by his body language and sometimes through his eyes. Now, though, Prince Changkyun has retreated back into his shell. He’s built the walls again, closed himself off, now that the guards are in his presence constantly. Minhyuk can’t tell what Changkyun is thinking. 

As for Minhyuk? He hates that he can’t read Prince Changkyun anymore, thanks to them. Their very presence irritates him; the guards stand cold and still and wordless on either side of Prince Changkyun’s bedroom door, and they follow him wherever he goes. They’re two very scary nuisances; despite the sullen mood they carry, they’re both extremely muscular and they make even Prince Changkyun look tiny. They could probably break Minhyuk into pieces.

And _Hyunwoo,_ damn it, is taller than Minhyuk by a few inches, and every time Minhyuk thinks of his face, he feels heat rise to his cheeks.

He hates to admit it, but Hyunwoo’s handsome face is all he can think about when he has a moment to himself. Even now, he’s thinking about the taller guard; idling in the laundry room, washing some of Prince Changkyun’s laundry, even though he’s technically on his break. He scrubs at the clothing blankly, mind on nothing but the tall guard. His reddish hair that glitters in the moonlight, and his narrow eyes, and his plump lips...

“I hate them.” 

Kihyun’s voice, tight with anger, carries into the room as he storms in, carrying the other load of Prince Changkyun’s laundry. Minhyuk swallows, hoping he’s not blushing.

“I know,” Minhyuk replies simply. He’s heard Kihyun say this at least four times since they met. 

“I’ve never met a pair of men so stupid. Apparently Hoseok doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘privacy’ either,” Kihyun growls, slamming the basket down onto the table. Minhyuk blinks up at him. His expression is livid, and it catches Minhyuk off guard. Kihyun complains about the guards every second he gets, but this is the first time Minhyuk has seen him look genuinely furious. 

“What’s he done?” Minhyuk asks, curiosity piqued. So much for ‘they haven’t done anything to Kihyun yet.’

Kihyun sighs angrily, whirling away from the table to pick up a bucket and washboard.

“I was helping Prince Changkyun get undressed for his bath, and Hoseok tried to follow us into the closet,” Kihyun mumbles, dumping some warm water into one of the buckets. “With absolutely _no_ respect for privacy or anything. Neither of them."

Minhyuk blinks again, processing. “He tried to… _follow_ His Highness inside?”

“Yes!” Kihyun snaps, lugging the bucket of water and washboard over to where Minhyuk is seated at the table, his own bucket of warm water between his knees. “And I told him that no, he absolutely could _not_ do that, and he just glared at me and told me that his job is to watch the Prince.”

“Even while His Grace is changing?” Minhyuk snorts incredulously. “That seems a bit too far.”

“Exactly,” Kihyun plops at the table across from him, picking up one of the shirts in his laundry basket and dropping it into the sudsy water. “And then, do you know what this giant _arsehole_ said to me?”

“What did he say?” Minhyuk asks, dreading the answer. 

“Prince Changkyun closed the door to change by himself, as he should be allowed to, and then Hoseok-ssi, he said—” Kihyun cuts himself off with a barking laugh. “He said to me, that I have no right to talk down to him, being younger and _lower class_.”

Minhyuk lowers the tunic he’s scrubbing, looking at Kihyun in shock. Kihyun stares at him with his lips pressed together so hard the corners of his mouth are white, and his eyes blaze with fury. Minhyuk has only ever seen him so angry a few times in his life. Kihyun is a very proud man; Minhyuk can’t imagine how he must feel. Minhyuk is lucky that he’s never experienced being reduced to his class, but he knows that not everyone can relate. He’s sorry that Kihyun is dealing with it.

“He didn’t,” Minhyuk whispers, feeling insulted on Kihyun’s behalf. 

“He did.”

“Prince Changkyun had to have heard it through the door. Did he intervene?”

“Not... really,” Kihyun says, deflating a bit. “I was too affronted to say anything, and all the Prince did after leaving the closet was glare at Hoseok. Then he pulled me into his bathroom and shut the door on Hoseok’s face.”

“And then what?”

“Hoseok knocked on the door, and Prince Changkyun ordered him to leave so he could bathe,” Kihyun says with a sigh. “Prince Changkyun... he was so furious his voice was shaking.”

Now Kihyun looks more drained than anything, and he starts washing the clothing in his bucket as if using it as a release for his anger. Minhyuk winces as the delicate fabric scrapes against the washboard.

“Be gentle, Kihyun. I know you’re upset, but that’s Prince Changkyun’s clothing.” Minhyuk says quietly, waiting until Kihyun quits his vicious rubbing to continue speaking. “Why would Hoseok say something like that? Did you talk to him about your family at all?”

“No, of course not! I haven’t spoken to anyone about my family, let alone _him_. I was simply trying to get the Prince bathed and preserve his privacy. I had done nothing to deserve his insult,” Kihyun grits out.

“How insensitive,” Minhyuk sighs, irritated as well. Who does he think he is?

“And what if he’d said something like that to Hyungwon? Poor Hyungwon-ah would have just been trying to feed Prince Changkyun. This man with _rocks for brains_ would have insulted him out of nowhere, without even _knowing_ his home situation, _without knowing_ the poor kid doesn’t keep any of his paycheck money for himself,” Kihyun rants. “That sorry excuse of a guard doesn’t know a damn thing about any of us. Any relatively considerate person would have kept his mouth shut, that’s for sure.”

Minhyuk doesn’t speak, letting Kihyun be angry. He has a right to be upset, and what’s even more, he’s entirely correct—there’s no good reason to insult someone based on their class. He’s known Kihyun since they were kids and despite the time they spent apart, Minhyuk is still well-rounded on how to handle Kihyun’s anger. Kihyun knows how to hold a grudge, and Minhyuk knows better than to try to talk to him reasonably. Besides, if he had been spoken to like that, he’s sure he’d be just as affronted. Hell, who wouldn’t be? Being reduced to a simple class, a simple word, is probably the greatest insult anyone who isn’t royal or aristocratic can face. 

With that in mind, he starts to contemplate whether or not he should try to talk to the new guards. He squirms uncomfortably at the very idea of coming face to face with Hyunwoo and Hoseok, but he also knows that Kihyun (and by extension, Hyungwon and himself as well) have a deep loyalty to Prince Changkyun already. If these two guards are going to try to come between them, they need to be aware of who they’re messing with.

Minhyuk has known Kihyun for a long time. Kihyun is cunning and sharp, like a dagger you don’t see until it’s embedded in your chest. He’s smart, and he knows how to hold a grudge. If Hoseok doesn’t back off, Minhyuk can see things taking a definite turn for the worse.

* * *

“Son Hyunwoo,” Prince Changkyun says suddenly, his voice splitting the tense silence in his bedroom.

It’s later in the night, nearing dinner time. The Prince is bent over his desk, flipping through one of his many books. Minhyuk and Hyungwon sit on the floor in front of his dresser, putting away his freshly-washed laundry, and Kihyun is tidying the Prince’s bed area. The bed is low to the floor, and the canopy drapes, headboard and bedside tables, as well as all the candles, need constant dusting. Hyunwoo and Hoseok stand on either side of the door to the bedroom, wearing matching blank expressions.

“Yes, Your Highness?” Hyunwoo asks. His voice is deep and cool, and it makes Minhyuk’s heart flutter.

Prince Changkyun sits back in his chair, turning his head to look at Hyunwoo. “Do you have a relation to General Son Gwansoo?”

“My uncle, Your Grace.”

“Ah, I thought so,” Prince Changkyun hums. 

The Prince gets up out of his desk chair, his reading glasses perched on his long nose. He turns a few pages in the book, pacing leisurely in front of his bookcases. Minhyuk watches him wearily out of the corner of his eye, folding up another white regency shirt.

“Lee Hoseok, hm?” Prince Changkyun mumbles thoughtfully. 

Hoseok nods slightly in acknowledgement. Changkyun flips another page, then glances up at the orange-haired guard, expression slightly puzzled.

“Where are you from?” Prince Changkyun asks. 

“I was born and raised in Haegye, Your Highness,” Hoseok replies, his voice the slightest bit proud.

“And... are you the first in your family to become a soldier?” 

Hoseok nods. Minhyuk doesn’t know where the Prince is going with this. He glances over his shoulder at Kihyun, who is wiping dust from the bedside tables on either side of Prince Changkyun’s bed. His back is to Minhyuk. He can’t see the younger’s expression.

“What does your family do?” Changkyun asks.

Hoseok pauses. “They run several shops, Your Grace.”

“What do they sell?”

“Fruit, Your Highness.”

Prince Changkyun nods thoughtfully. “I don’t recognize your family name. Of course, there’s the House of Lee, but they reside here in Sarisong, with a seat in my father’s court. Your family sells fruit in Haegye. Would you consider your family... upper class?”

Hoseok’s expression turns a little uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I don’t see your point, Your Grace. We are comfortable enough.”

“I’m trying to understand the importance that someone’s class serves to you,” Prince Changkyun says coldly, and then Minhyuk understands where he’s going with this. “Considering the vulgarity of your words earlier this evening. Why did you feel it necessary to belittle Kihyun?”

Hyunwoo closes his eyes. Minhyuk winces, again glancing over his shoulder at Kihyun. Kihyun’s attention has been grabbed completely, and he’s staring between Hoseok and Prince Changkyun, bitterness in his eyes. Hyungwon catches Minhyuk’s eye and gives him a bewildered look. Of course; he’s the only one who doesn’t know what had happened earlier. The only thing Minhyuk can do is give him a grim expression in response.

“I meant no harm in what I said,” Hoseok says quietly, and Minhyuk swallows a scoff.

“Because insulting my upbringing isn’t harmful at all,” Kihyun bites out sarcastically. Hoseok casts a glare in his direction. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“Kihyun has every right to be insulted by what you said to him this evening,” Changkyun says sternly, staring Hoseok down. “If I were the one paying you, I would make you split your paycheck for this month and give half of it to Kihyun as a proper apology. I don’t care if you’re loyal to me or to my father. If either of you treat my attendants like that again, you’ll be punished.”

Hyunwoo nods easily. Hoseok bites his lip, clearly wishing to defend himself. In the end, he decides against it, and bows his head. _A wise choice,_ Minhyuk thinks.

“I am sorry, Kihyun-ssi,” He says. 

“In this room, in my presence, your family’s class does not matter,” Prince Changkyun says to all five of them. “You’ll treat each other with respect. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Hoseok’s expression remains the slightest bit sour for the next few hours. Even though Minhyuk hadn’t been involved at all, he can’t help but feel the slightest bit victorious. By the look on Kihyun’s face as he continues dusting the bed, he does as well.

* * *

Later that night, after Prince Changkyun has dinner, Minhyuk finds himself alone with the Prince in the library. He’d asked for Minhyuk to help him find something, but Hoseok and Hyunwoo linger not five feet away, watching him the entire time. Minhyuk can feel their gazes creep like spiders along his spine.

At first, Prince Changkyun doesn’t say anything; he stands with his back to his guards, calculating eyes scanning each and every book title on the shelves. Minhyuk stays a few paces away, giving Prince Changkyun his space, and he follows him at a slight distance as he meanders slowly down the aisle of books.

Minhyuk is about to ask him what the matter is when he ducks behind a bookshelf taller than Hyungwon, and tugs Minhyuk after him. He glances over Minhyuk’s shoulder, and then he finally speaks, his voice low and frustrated.

“Finally,” He hisses. “Can they see us?”

Minhyuk looks over his shoulder. All he sees are books upon books, old and new, stacked in dark wood bookcases, tall and short. He doesn’t see either guard. The library’s shelves are like a maze. Minhyuk has only been in the atheneum a handful of times, but he doesn’t dare go into the spiraling bookshelves.

“I don’t believe so,” He replies at a whisper. “Prince Changkyun, what is this? What’s going on?”

“This library is like a hedgemaze. It’s the only way I can talk to you privately.” Changkyun snips, his tone bitter. “Walk with me. We’ll get lost in here.”

They move through the towering shelves, taking turns left and right. It’s dizzying to Minhyuk, but Prince Changkyun seems like he knows where he’s going, and they finally end up in a dead end when he turns to Minhyuk. His expression is downcast, staring at the floor. Minhyuk doesn’t like it.

“I’m so tired.” He sighs.

“Tired of what, Your Highness?”

“I’m tired of being _here_ , Minhyuk. This damned palace is like a prison. There’s nothing I can do.”

“What do you mean, Prince?” Minhyuk asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

Prince Changkyun looks at him, and his eyes are a little wet. Minhyuk’s chest hurts at the sight of the unshed tears. The Prince is hard to read; he doesn’t allow himself to be vulnerable, even if he considers his attendants to be his friends. This is a side of Prince Changkyun that Minhyuk hasn’t seen yet. 

“Leaving the castle and exploring Tansu was simultaneously the most exciting and saddest thing I’ve done in fifty years. I want to help the people, Minhyuk,” Changkyun whispers earnestly, dipping his head. “They are low on morale. They hate my father. They’ve lost trust in my family. I want to go out and give them speeches, let them know that _I am here_ , that I will fix this. But I can’t. Not anymore. Not with _them_ breathing down my neck.”

“Perhaps we can convince them to come to your side,” Minhyuk says quietly, his mind spinning with possible solutions. Prince Changkyun is right. At this point, the guards are more of a problem than his father is. 

“No, that’s the problem. They’re not loyal to me, they’re loyal to _him_ , by default,” Changkyun gestures angrily towards the oil painting of his father, hanging stonily above the mantle across the room. “He’s the one paying them. If I complain to him about them, _I’ll_ be punished. Anything I do will get reported to him. They’re not here to be my friends, like you are. They’re here to ‘keep me in line.’ This is just another way of my father asserting his power over me. I’m trapped, Minhyuk-ssi.”

His voice takes on a helpless lilt, and he glances up at Minhyuk with an expression of powerlessness. 

“I have privilege, Minhyuk, as a direct member of the royal family,” He says weakly, and his tone of voice disturbs Minhyuk. “How can I use it to help people, all the while hiding from my father, and from these new guards?”

“Well, instead of behaving like children and trying to get the guards punished, perhaps we should think of ways to.. Utilize them for your cause,” Minhyuk says gently. He doesn’t like the look of helplessness on the Prince. Minhyuk knows he’s too strong to feel like that.

Changkyun pauses. “‘We?’”

Minhyuk gives him a wry smile. “I thought we’d made it clear at this point that we stand with you regardless of your plans, however risky they may be.”

“Is that by contract or by choice?” Changkyun sniffs. Minhyuk sighs internally.

“Both, Your Highness,” He replies steadily. “We’ve been your friends since the beginning. That’s not going to change.”

Changkyun gazes at him, eyes a little glassy, and he again pauses before changing topics slightly. “I like your idea of utilizing them.”

Minhyuk sits up a little straighter, proud of himself. “What exactly is your goal?”

Changkyun replies softly, “I don’t know yet.”

Minhyuk feels like the calm eye of a hurricane at that moment. 

Kihyun already hates both guards, and Hoseok isn’t particularly fond of him, either. Prince Changkyun is also more upset than he’s let on—upset to the point where he’s had to let Minhyuk in, let him try to provide comfort. Minhyuk is sure that, if he or Kihyun or Hyungwon weren’t around to provide an ear, he would have had to find some other outlet for his frustration, and it would perhaps have been destructive. If anything, Minhyuk is glad he’s been able to talk to Prince Changkyun one on one.

He can’t tell how Hyungwon feels. The youngest attendant is mostly clueless as to what happened earlier in the evening, and Minhyuk doesn’t know how he’ll react when he’s told. The youngest attendant behaves coldly respectful towards both guards, and as far as Minhyuk is concerned he doesn’t appreciate their presence, but other than that, Minhyuk is having a hard time reading him. He wonders if that will change when Hyungwon finds out what Hoseok had said to Kihyun.

And there’s Hyunwoo, tall and gorgeous and quiet, with a consistently steely expression and unwavering calmness. He’s barely said three sentences since they met him, and despite himself, Minhyuk isn’t brave enough to deny that he has a crush on the older. Minhyuk wants to get to know the beautiful man, to talk to him and become someone to him, but with how the first impressions had gone, he’s not sure how well that will blow over with anyone involved.

The guards’ allegiance to the King is already conflicting with the attendants’ allegiance to the Prince. Minhyuk sees a recipe for disaster.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. Late September. 1889._

It takes Minhyuk nearly a week to muster up the courage to speak to either guard, but the final push is when Hoseok and Kihyun have another argument. Minhyuk hadn’t been there for it, but Hyungwon had, and he’d explained the argument had been loud and public and apparently over something incredibly trivial, and Minhyuk knows it’s time to intervene. He’s not sure if it’s their egos clashing or their separate loyalties, but it needs to be stopped before Prince Changkyun becomes aware; or worse, the King becomes aware.

He waits until he has a private moment with the guards; he’s in the Prince’s bedroom, sorting laundry, when Prince Changkyun heads into his bathroom, alone, for a bath before bed. He stands near Prince Changkyun’s closet while the guards flank the door, and he waits until he hears the water start before glancing over at the two older vampires. They’re closer to him than he is to the closed bathroom door. It’s not as private as Minhyuk would like, but it’s better than nothing, and he wants to say what he needs to say before he runs out of time.

“Hyunwoo-ssi, Hoseok-ssi,” He says quietly, and both guards turn their attention, lazy and uninterested, towards him. His heart jumps when Hyunwoo makes eye contact with him, but he swallows and steels himself. “Might I have a word with you?”

They don’t answer. Minhyuk takes that as an initiative to start talking.

“I just want to warn you of something,” He says, as calmly as he can. “I heard of what occurred this evening and I think you’ll... find it’s best to remain on Kihyun’s good side. I’ve known him for a very long time, and I can safely say that the way you are treating him is going to return to bite you.”

Hoseok scoffs. “Oh, sure. Did he set you up to this?”

Minhyuk blanks, momentarily taken aback by his crude attitude. “No, of course not. I’m warning you that Kihyun is clever, and sharp, like a dagger. He prioritizes his job and his relationship with Prince Changkyun over anything.”

“And that’s supposed to scare me?” Hoseok asks, tone bored. Minhyuk feels his hackles rise and fights to keep his expression neutral.

“Listen,” Minhyuk says, voice low and strained. His first plan of intimidation hasn’t worked, and now he needs to turn to his backup plan. “Don’t we all want what’s best for Prince Changkyun? If his staff is continuing to behave like children, how will that turn out for him? King Byungwook is a violent man. If you’ve met him, I’m sure you know. It’s my hope that you’re both kind and considerate people.” 

“So what’s your point?”

“My point is, please refrain from doing anything to agitate us or Prince Changkyun,” Minhyuk says, frustrated. “I would advise you to stay out of Kihyun’s way in particular. I’m telling you the truth. He’s not an enemy that you want to have.”

“I think he’ll find that I am the same,” Hoseok quips, and Minhyuk fights the urge to roll his eyes. He’s legitimately trying to warn them. Why can’t they take him seriously?

“He’s right, Hoseok-ah,” Hyunwoo says, startling both of them. Minhyuk tries to keep his face stony while his heart does backflips. “The King might be our employer, but Prince Changkyun is our charge. Don’t be belligerent for no reason. I know you, and I know you’re better than that. We aren’t here to make enemies.”

Hoseok falls silent. The phrase “I know you” tumbles over and over in Minhyuk’s mind. They’re friends? He had been under the impression that they’d just been selected at random, forced to be coworkers. But the warmth and sincerity behind Hyunwoo’s words clearly indicate they’re more than that.

Hoseok eventually nods, albeit reluctantly. Minhyuk glances at Hyunwoo, and he hopes the look on his face is grateful, because he can’t look at Hyunwoo in the eyes for longer than a few seconds, intimidated both by his rock-like muscles and his ridiculously beautiful face.

More importantly, he hopes this means the guards will stay out of Kihyun’s way.

* * *

After the Prince has gone to bed, Minhyuk paces the library as they had the previous week, scanning the titles for anything interesting. His heart is still racing slightly from the conversation he’d had with the guards. Hyunwoo’s voice rings in his ears. He feels slightly ridiculous; these guards come and ruin what Minhyuk, Kihyun and Hyungwon have worked so hard to build and Minhyuk starts hopelessly crushing on the taller guard. He can’t mention this to Kihyun or Hyungwon. 

No. This information needs to stay with him.

He yelps when he rounds a corner, and slams into Hyungwon.

Hyungwon has gained some weight now that he has food and blood readily accessible to him, but he’s still a stick, and Minhyuk nearly barrels him over entirely. He grabs the lanky boy before he can fall to the floor, but the book in Hyungwon’s hands tumbles to the floor, landing awkwardly on the stone.

“Hyungwon-ah! I’m so sorry. Are you all right?” He fumbles. “I didn’t even see you.”

“I’m fine,” Hyungwon mumbles, slightly dazed. “Are you?

“I’m okay,” Minhyuk bends down to pick up the fallen book. “What are you doing in here?”

And then his eyes fall on the title of the book. _Supreme Vampiric Royalty: The History of the Lim Family._

“Updated circa 1799,” Minhyuk reads. “The year the Prince was born. Hyungwon-ah, what are you doing with this?”

“I’m reading about His Highness’s family,” Hyungwon says quietly. “But... I’ve found something peculiar.”

Minhyuk tilts his head inivitingly, interest piqued, and Hyungwon takes the book. Minhyuk watches as Hyungwon flips through the book before settling on a page right at the back of the book.

“October 18, 1784. Before any of us were born,” Hyungwon reads, turning the book around in his hands to show Minhyuk the page. “The first Crown Prince was born. Crown Prince Dokyun.”

“What..?” Aghast, Minhyuk takes the book, skimming the page. There’s a faded black and white picture at the top of the yellowed page, a photo of an infant sleeping peacefully in a woman’s arms.

_Crown Prince Lim Dokyun, born October 18, 1784. The firstborn of King Byungwook and Queen Consort Dahye._

“But, here, look,” Hyungwon takes the book back, and flips a few more pages. The next page he lands on is a page that, while still yellowed and crinkled, looks a little newer compared to the other pages in the book. Minhyuk reads quickly.

_Prince Lim Changkyun, born January 26, 1799. The second born of King Byungwook and Queen Consort Dahye._

“And that’s where the book ends,” Hyungwon says. “There’s nothing more on Prince Changkyun or the firstborn, Prince Dokyun. There’s not anything on the Queen’s death.”

Minhyuk furrows his eyebrows. He wonders if this book is the only copy of the royal family’s records. He flips to the front of the book, and the first few pages adorn the writer’s names, scrawled in faded black ink. The date the book was started is written in the top corner, but the numbers are so faded and smudged he can’t read it.

The first monarch in the book is Lim Seunggyu, the Father of Vampires. Minhyuk knows his name; everyone knows his name. In the continent on Earth now known as Asia, with the dawn of the Humans also came the dawn of the Vampires, as well as the Obake, the Sirens, the Werewolves, and the Dragonpeople. The five Supernatural species share Human roots, but are nonetheless separate species. All six species emerged from various parts of Asia, and lived in harmony for only a brief period of time.

Lim Seunggyu was the first vampire, born nearly three thousand years before the birth of the human Jesus Christ. Seunggyu’s children and spawn, those he Turned from alive to what Humans call "undead," were the first Korean vampires. There isn't much change that takes place when a human is Turned—the body does die, but only for a brief moment while the organs inside change to be able to digest blood. The idea that a vampire is a moving, walking, talking _dead_ creature is utterly ridiculous. Either way, Turning humans is how the vampire population began to grow.

Only a short period of time later, the Human Wars, which took place in the Human continent of Asia, thousands of years before the birth of Christ, ended with no winner. However, the Humans sealed the Supernaturals in the dimension they live in now. Before being sealed, however, the leaders of the Supernaturals, including Lim Seunggyu, cast a curse erasing all written records of peace between Humans and Supernaturals. In the human dimension, the existence of Supernaturals is only a myth. Once the First Vampires, birthed from the Korean humans, were sealed away, they built what King Byungwook is now the ruler of.

Minhyuk skims the page. There’s no picture of Seunggyu; rather, it’s an archaic drawing, and it’s not easy to look at, so he reads the small blocks of text on either side of the image. Lim Seunggyu was the first and only vampire to be sun resistant, and had the ability to turn into an animal. That’s why he was crowned the first King. His children, birthed by his wife, the first Vampire Queen, also had his ability. Seunggyu’s children began the Lim Dynasty, and his family has held the throne since. Prince Changkyun is his direct descendant.

“But... I don’t remember Prince Dokyun,” Minhyuk whispers to himself. “Why don’t I remember him? I barely remember Prince Changkyun’s birth; I was only fifteen years old. That puts me about the same age as Prince Dokyun is. In 1784… he was born only a few weeks before me.”

Hyungwon and Minhyuk share a puzzled look. Minhyuk’s mind is whirling. He’s been working in the castle long enough to know every area by heart, save for the few rooms he’s not allowed to enter. There’s portraits of King Byungwook and Queen Dahye in almost every room. He’s only seen one picture of Prince Changkyun; the one that hangs in the throne room. He’s never seen any portrait of anyone else. He’s sure he’d remember, and he doesn’t.

“Prince Dokyun?”

Hyungwon and Minhyuk snap their heads up and Minhyuk slams the book shut. When he sees it’s only Seokjin, tailed by Kihyun and Namjoon, he relaxes slightly, but his heart thuds loudly in his ears.

“Seokjin-hyung,” Hyungwon says, eyes wide in surprise, and he and Minhyuk bow politely to the older vampire. 

Seokjin’s eyes are trained on the book in Minhyuk’s hands. When Namjoon sees it, his eyes narrow, then blow wide in shock. His mouth falls open slightly.

“Where did you…” He holds his hand out for the book, and Minhyuk gives it to him quickly. “Where did you find this?”

Minhyuk looks at Hyungwon, and everyone else turns their attention to him, expectant. Hyungwon colors slightly.

“I, um,” He clears his throat. “I was looking for something to read. I found it hidden on the floor in between a shelf and the wall.”

“Do you know how long it’s been since anyone has seen this book?” Seokjin says, an incredulous laugh in his tone.

“Since 1799..?” Minhyuk tries. Seokjin gives him a weary look, and then turns his attention back to Namjoon, who is gently turning each page.

“This book has been updated every time a new member of the royal family is born or married in,” Namjoon says. “But the year Prince Changkyun was born, it went missing. A ninety years ago.”

“Seokjin-hyung, what about… Prince Dokyun? Where is he?” Hyungwon asks. The question had been burning on the tip of Minhyuk’s tongue; he’s glad Hyungwon asked.

Seokjin looks at him again, and his eyebrows pull together. “Prince Dokyun died seventy years ago. He fell from a horse and broke his neck. Don’t you remember?”

And suddenly, Minhyuk does remember. It takes him a moment, but a vague memory does come to him. As one of only a few families living in the outskirts of Yangjin, they were the first to get news of any kind if it came from Sarisong. He remembers being a small boy of seventy years old, barely young enough to understand the world he lived in. His mother had told him, rather offhandedly, if he recalls correctly, that the Crown Prince had died. He doesn’t remember much else, only that there had been no funeral. King Byungwook hates funerals; always has. 

Only a decade later, the Queen fell sick while pregnant with the King’s thirdborn, and then she died. He didn’t give her a funeral either, but to this day, only Byungwook knows where she’s buried. The King locked up the palace, permanently trapping himself and Prince Changkyun, only a motherless child, inside.

“Prince Changkyun has never, ever mentioned a brother,” Hyungwon says thoughtfully.

“He’s never mentioned his mother, either,” Kihyun reminds him gently. 

“Prince Changkyun has been through a lot,” Seokjin states gravely. “He was only a toddler of twenty when his brother died, only twenty-five when Her Majesty the Queen passed.”

“He probably doesn’t remember much of them, then,” Minhyuk says, saddened. Seokjin nods.

“There’s no portraits, though,” Hyungwon shakes his head like he doesn’t understand. “I’ve never seen a portrait of Prince Dokyun.”

“There were only two paintings of Prince Dokyun ever drawn, and King Byungwook had them stored away after Dokyun’s death,” Seokjin says quietly. “He’s the only one who knows where the portraits are, if they haven’t been destroyed. Queen Dahye always carried a picture of him following his passing. That picture was buried with her.”

“Are there any more of Prince Changkyun, other than the one in the throne room?” 

“No,” Seokjin says, his tone mournful. “And that portrait is nearly four decades old. King Byungwook hasn’t bothered to get his portrait redone.”

“Prince Changkyun is a lonely boy,” Namjoon says, and Minhyuk’s heart starts to ache. “I don’t remember the last time we saw him smile. I don’t know what it is you’ve done, or how you’ve managed to do it, but... I am glad that you’ve made a friend out of him.”

Touched, Minhyuk looks at Namjoon. The expression on his face is incredibly warm, unlike the stern coldness it usually carries. Minhyuk doesn’t see Namjoon often; whenever he sees him, he’s near the King, which Minhyuk guesses warrants the iciness in his face. 

“Has the Prince... never had tutors? Or anyone to teach him?” Kihyun asks curiously.

A good question, Minhyuk ponders. While his lack of tutors is something Minhyuk has noticed, he hasn’t thought much of it, thinking that maybe the Prince has simply outgrown a need for teachers. He remembers having a brief conversation with Hyungwon about it, a few days after they’d met each other; back then, Hyungwon had seemed deeply curious about what the Prince did in a night. Minhyuk doesn’t blame him for being curious; they'd hardly known anything about him then.

“Oh, of course he has,” Seokjin says. "Just not anymore. He’s always been quite bright and eager to learn, more so than his brother. Following the deaths of his older brother, and then his mother… his relationship with King Byungwook deteriorated quickly. By the time he was sixty-five, all of his tutors had been let go. It’s been almost thirty years since he’s held a sword, or taken a test.”

“Let... go?” Minhyuk tilts his head. “Why?”

“The King simply didn’t care enough to pay them any longer. He stopped caring about Prince Changkyun’s education, and as much as the tutors loved the Prince, they weren’t willing to work without pay.”

“Well, it’s no wonder he teaches himself, then,” Kihyun mumbles under his breath.

Surprised, everyone turns to look at him, Minhyuk included. He stares back, a little bewildered at their expressions.

“What?” Kihyun’s eyebrows pinch together. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“He... teaches himself?” Namjoon asks, unsure.

“The books he reads are all historical accounts. They’re about events, battles, politics, et cetera. Also biographies and autobiographies of deceased historical figures, such as members of his own family and other political and military experts,” Kihyun explains. “Only someone with a true need to know Vampire history would subject themselves to such heavy knowledge. Some of the books are stuffed with notes.”

Of _course_. It’s the only reason that makes sense. Before, Minhyuk had simply figured that the Prince truly likes history, and likes reading about his family. But he has no tutors, no teachers, no one to educate him—no one other than himself.

Namjoon and Seokjin look like they’re experiencing a collective epiphany. Minhyuk is, too. He glances at Hyungwon, who is staring thoughtfully at the floor. Once again, Minhyuk can’t tell what’s happening in his head. He can tell the cogs in Hyungwon’s brain are turning, but what he’s thinking about is a mystery to everyone.

“You three should head to bed,” Seokjin says, switching from sorrowful to the kind hyung Minhyuk knows him as best. 

“What will you do with the book?” Minhyuk asks curiously.

“Put it back,” Namjoon shrugs. “I’m sure neither the King nor his son will want to see it. I’m amazed you’ve found it, is all. The original writers of the book have sadly all died. I think the book will remain a relic, now.”

They’re sent to bed a few minutes later, bidding the older vampires pleasant dreams. As Kihyun blows the candles out, Minhyuk lies awake in bed, weak sunlight filtering through the heavy drapes over their windows.

The Prince hasn’t had tutors in nearly thirty years. As a student, he would have been taught many things useful to a king: the history of his family, how to use a sword in battle, various languages, proper writing, reading, and arithmetic. 

Suddenly Minhyuk sees an opportunity. If the Prince hasn’t held a sword in thirty years, and Hyunwoo and Hoseok are newly trained soldiers, they can teach him.

_This. This will work. Prince Changkyun can learn what he needs to learn, we can help him—and better his relationship with his guards all the while. This could be a solution._

It will take lots of trust-building and time, and willingness to cooperate on both sides. Kihyun and Hoseok’s relationship will need to get better, and Prince Changkyun will need to show a desire to learn, and the guards will have to be in a position where they doubt their loyalty in order for this to go as flawlessly as Minhyuk wants it to. Everyone will need to become friends, in a manner of speaking.

The more he thinks about the challenges they face, the more he becomes aware that he truly does have his work cut out for him.

As he drifts into sleep, his last thoughts echo in the back of his mind. 

_I’ll make it work._

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. Late October. 1889._

A month passes and very little changes. Minhyuk brought up his idea to Prince Changkyun and while the young prince did show hesitancy, he was mostly on board, and agreed to try to extend his hand to the guards to see if they would take it. And while Kihyun continues to hate Hoseok and Hyunwoo, and Hyungwon continues to behave mostly uninterested, Prince Changkyun grows closer to them, and Minhyuk watches.

What’s surprising in a pleasant way is that once Changkyun starts to extend his hand to the two guards, they’re receptive to his efforts at becoming friends. Through Changkyun’s endeavors, Minhyuk learns that Hyunwoo and Hoseok are both older than him, born on June 18, 1774, and March 1, 1779, respectfully—they’re not quite half a decade apart. Hyunwoo’s family, based in Kangjun, has an impressive history of members in the royal military, and errs on the side of aristocracy, with Hyunwoo’s uncle and grandfather as heads of various platoons within the royal army. Hoseok’s family in Haegye, mid-upper class, are known for growing and selling deliciously perfect fruits, and his grandmother’s peaches, watermelons, and oranges have been made into extravagant centerpieces at multiple royal banquets and treaty negotiations. 

They met in the royal military academy and have been close friends ever since then. Hyunwoo is an only child, and Hoseok has a younger brother who is already married. When asked, Hoseok made it clear he didn’t have any intention of marrying anyone. Minhyuk wonders why that is.

“I’m still reluctant to let them get close to me,” Prince Changkyun reveals quietly one night, while Minhyuk sits with him in the bathroom as he bathes. 

Changkyun had opted to bathe while clothed, which isn’t unusual for those who can afford to take daily baths, and had asked Minhyuk to wash his hair. Of course, Minhyuk had suspected this was a ruse so the Prince could talk to him in private, and he was entirely correct.

“Mm,” Minhyuk hums, watching as Changkyun glides his fingers through the water, chasing an orange slice around the tub. “I understand.”

And he does understand. Regardless of their plans, Hoseok and Hyunwoo are still employed by the King. He absolutely understands Prince Changkyun’s apprehension. 

“They are men,” Changkyun continues. “They will be loyal to who pays them. That, and my father is not afraid to threaten their lives or their family to get them to cooperate.”

And the worst part is, he’s right. Minhyuk knows that. He’s painfully aware that Prince Changkyun has been on the receiving end of his father’s violence many times before. If anything, that’s what scares him the most about this plan: what they’re doing could be considered deceitful, and if they’re caught—Prince Changkyun is the one who will be punished.

“I understand. We must be careful; this is risky. Our goal is to get to a point where they protect you because they _want_ to. We want them to protect you because if anything happened to you, they’d be devastated,” Minhyuk reminds him gently. “Right now, they’re constantly around you because that’s their job. Befriending them, even though we all might have gotten off on the wrong foot, is our best chance of changing that.”

“What did I do to make you want to befriend me?” Changkyun asks.

Minhyuk thinks for a moment. “Well... part of that was my own determination. I’m fairly extroverted, as I’m sure you know—” Changkyun’s lips quirk up in the smallest of smiles “—and I guess right from the start, I knew there was more to you than others see when they look at you.”

“Is that so?” Changkyun asks. His voice is cool, but Minhyuk is also able to detect a hint of curiosity.

Minhyuk hums in reply, a little amused. “You’re in the same situation I was in, Prince Changkyun. Though, I didn’t have ulterior motives, if you will.”

“I don’t like thinking about it like that,” Changkyun says, leaning against the lip of the tub.

This gets Minhyuk’s attention. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... of course, at first I was prepared to befriend them to utilize them. But now that I’m getting to know them, I…”

“You want to be their friend, truly,” Minhyuk finishes for him. 

Changkyun nods slowly.

“They’re kind, and friendly,” Changkyun says. “Hoseok kind of reminds me of you, when we first met. I can tell he has a kind heart, if you understand. And I can’t yet read Hyunwoo very easily yet but he seems like a gentle giant.”

Minhyuk nods. Internally, Minhyuk is slightly ecstatic. Relationships have always been important to him and he enjoys watching others bond. If their plan works, a true friendship between the Prince and his guards will be an epic bonus.

“At first, when you three were trying to befriend me, I thought it was because you wanted something from me,” Changkyun says honestly. “I thought you were somehow employed to be spies or something, or that you had your own motives. I knew my father was onto me about my, uh, nightly activities, and I thought you were employed to stop me. And I... now that I have you three, I don’t sneak away from the castle as often.”

It’s true. Prince Changkyun’s secret visits to the rest of the Kingdom have stopped almost entirely and while Minhyuk can tell he’s bored, he always manages to find something to occupy himself with, whether it’s reading or writing or talking to them. 

Nonetheless, Minhyuk isn’t all that surprised to hear Changkyun say this. He remembers the way Prince Changkyun used to lash out at them, ignore them, or otherwise display his distrust. Minhyuk can’t really blame him; with a father like his, he must be suspicious of everyone.

“I am glad you’ve opened your heart to us,” Minhyuk says kindly. “Perhaps as proof of your trust you could ask them to teach you something.”

“Such as?”

“I'm sure you can think of something," Minhyuk prompts. “But, being soldiers... well, they're bound to be knowledgeable in the art of combat, are they not?”

“Perhaps they are,” Prince Changkyun murmurs. His eyes grow far away, and Minhyuk knows he’s got his attention.

“Are you ready for me to wash your hair?”

Prince Changkyun gives him a small smile, and nods.

* * *

The next evening, Minhyuk is informed that King Byungwook is going to throw a Halloween ball on the night of October 31st. Seokjin reveals it to the staff as a whole a few hours before Prince Changkyun is supposed to wake up, and the entire kitchen erupts into curious whispers and titters.

“Wait, truly?” Jungkook asks in surprise. “A Halloween ball?”

Seokjin nods. His expression is a bit exasperated. “Yes. The ball will be in the castle, and only family members from the nobility will be allowed to attend.”

“Not even higher class families? Only nobility?” 

Seokjin nods again. “We have a lot to do. Between cleaning and decorating, I’m sure all of you will find something to work on. I have here a list of things King Byungwook wants from us to ensure the perfect party.”

Minhyuk glances at Kihyun and Hyungwon, both seated across the table. Hyungwon is watching Seokjin obediently, but Kihyun shrugs slightly when he makes eye contact with Minhyuk.

“Jungkook-ah, you’ll need to groom and dress the horses. Jimin-ah and Taehyung-ah, His Majesty wants oranges, peaches, and pumpkins for centerpieces. As for the cooking staff, you know what to do... This is not unlike the one His Majesty threw a decade or two ago. We don’t have a lot of time. I need everyone ready to help. I understand this is a lot of work and stress on a short notice, but we must make the most of the time we have. Let’s get to work.”

* * *

“You three are exempt from party preparations,” Prince Changkyun tells them. 

Minhyuk blinks in surprise. They’ve just been sent to feed him and inform him of the party, but it seems he already knows. Word travels quickly within this towering palace, it seems. Hyungwon sets the tray of fruit down on his dresser and Prince Changkyun spears a peach slice with the little wooden fork, humming gently in delight as he bites into it.

“All of us?” Kihyun repeats, tilting his head. Changkyun nods, swallowing.

“Yes,” He says, holding up another peach slice to the candlelight. “Because I said so. Of course, if Seokjin asks for your help, you can help him, if you wish. But don’t go looking for things to do.”

Puzzled, Kihyun and Hyungwon share a glance as Changkyun enjoys his peaches. Minhyuk glances at Hyunwoo and Hoseok; it’s clear they’ve both just woken up, judging by their sleepy eyes and slightly mussed hair, but at least Hyunwoo seems to be listening to the conversation. 

“What will you wear to the ball, Your Grace?” Minhyuk asks curiously, already itching to go look at Changkyun’s closet.

“I won’t be attending the party.”

“Because of your father...?”

Changkyun scoffs, waving around the tiny two-pronged fork. “I highly doubt that man will be in attendance either. He likes to throw elaborate, expensive parties, and not make a single appearance the entire time.”

That makes no sense to Minhyuk.

“Then why...”

“I won’t attend partially because I’m not technically allowed to, but also because I don’t wish to make a fool of myself,” Prince Changkyun says dully. “I don’t know how to dance. I haven’t even met most of the nobles.” 

“Why do party-goers attend if neither of you make an appearance?” Kihyun asks, bewildered.

“Because they like being in the palace,” Prince Changkyun says with a sigh, pulling open the drapes above his dresser. “They’re nobles; they like being seen. They like having a valid time and place to show off their wealth, their clothing, their jewelry. It’s not really about my father or me, when it comes to these parties. It’s about giving them a chance to show off. It’s why so many nobles love my father. Although,” He turns around, eyes narrowed in thought, and leans against the wooden dresser. “If I’m not mistaken, there are some noble families that don’t usually attend whatever ridiculous parties my father decides to throw. Those families have my respect.”

“Why don’t they attend?” Minhyuk asks. His interest is piqued and by a quick look around, he can tell everyone else is curious, too; they’re all watching the Prince in inquiry.

“Because they hate my father,” Prince Changkyun says, his smile and tone slightly smug. “I’m sure you’re aware my father gives monthly stipends to noble families in exchange for their continued support. There are noble families that regularly donate their stipend money to charities, partially because they want to help and partially in retaliation towards my father. There’s just… not many of them. Four, I think. Off the top of my head.”

Only four out of God-knows-how-many noble families donate to the poor. The number surprises Minhyuk more than it disappoints him. 

“What if we taught you to dance?” Minhyuk says, only half joking.

Prince Changkyun gives him a look. “Do you know how to do noble dances?”

“Are there differences in the dances nobles and commoners do?” Hyungwon furrows his brows, and his expression turns astounded at Prince Changkyun's nod.

“I know how to dance.”

Five heads turn to face Hyunwoo. His expression is as unreadable as always, but Minhyuk’s heartrate picks up at the sound of his voice. 

“You... do?” Prince Changkyun asks incredulously.

“My grandfather and uncle are occasionally invited to parties, and on the off chance the rest of us were invited, I was taught multiple dances,” Hyunwoo says calmly. “I can teach you, Your Highness, if you’re willing to learn.” 

“Have you ever attended any of these parties?” Prince Changkyun tilts his head.

“No, Your Grace,” Hyunwoo shakes his head. “I was never old enough whenever there was a party thrown my family was invited to.”

“I don’t know,” Changkyun sighs. “Regardless of whether or not I manage to make a masquerade mask and learn to dance in time, I’m still not allowed to attend these parties, thanks to that man.”

“You don’t listen to your father when he restricts you from leaving the palace,” Minhyuk says cheekily. “Why listen to him now?”

Changkyun blinks at him, then surprises everyone by laughing. “Point made,” He says, grinning a little. “Fine then. If you can make a mask in time, and Hyunwoo can teach me how to dance, then sure, I’ll go. But we must be careful. I doubt anyone will recognize me, but there’s always a slight chance. Make the mask as elaborate and distracting as you can.”

Minhyuk, excited, glances at Kihyun, who gives him a bemused look. He’s ready to get to work, and so, it seems, are the others.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. October 31. 1889._

On the last night of October, the party begins promptly at 12 am, the guests pouring into the palace at the stroke of twelve, dressed in the fanciest of Halloween outfits. Minhyuk is glad he’d had a chance to look around the ballroom before the party began, and his mouth had dropped open in surprise. 

The ballroom glitters in orange, black, purple and red, candelabras and other light sources dripping with spider webs. The staff have set up a grand table in the center of the enormous ballroom and it’s laden with all kinds of expensive blood and food, cooked and baked by Kyungsoo and his excellent kitchen staff. The lighting is dark and eerie and little tables and plush chairs have been placed about the room to provide comfort and spaces to eat, and Jimin and Taehyung’s fruit centerpieces complete the entire buffet as if sealing a gift with a kiss. It’s absolutely spectacular. It’s unlike anything Minhyuk has ever seen before.

The Prince had spent an entire night or so learning several dances with Hyunwoo as his partner, and Hyunwoo had been pleased to relay that the Prince is a very fast learner. Minhyuk and Hyungwon had taken over creating Prince Changkyun’s outfit; Minhyuk had made his mask and Hyungwon had designed his costume. The costume itself isn’t exactly a costume, per se, but it’s intricate enough to be fit for a party; a black, laced top with sleeves that bell at the elbow, black leather pants and a lot of gold jewelry, complete with a black masquerade mask that is decked out in the shiniest green and blue jewels, gold pieces, and feathers Minhyuk could find. The outfit is fantastic, if Minhyuk does say so himself, and he’s excited to see how Changkyun will look in it.

For the first hour after the party begins, though, Prince Changkyun is nowhere to be found. 

He’s not in his room or his bathroom, and he’s not in the library or the catacombs either, leading to all five of his staff members going on a semi-frantic goose chase to find him. How Prince Changkyun managed to slip away from his guards is a total mystery to Minhyuk but right now, he’s mainly concerned with his whereabouts.

There’s a balcony overlooking the ballroom, and Minhyuk finally finds Prince Changkun hidden behind the curtains that flank the sides of the terrace, watching the party from above. Minhyuk almost doesn’t see the Prince at first, but he shifts slightly and Minhyuk catches a glimpse of his necklace as the candlelight catches the golden charm around his neck.

He approaches the Prince slowly. Prince Changkyun has his full attention on something within the party on the lower level; his eyes dart back and forth, watching something—or someone. Minhyuk glances over the lip of the balcony; there’s a circle around a small group of people who are dancing in the center of the ballroom.

Minhyuk steps a bit closer, nudging into the Prince’s line of sight. Prince Changkyun gasps when he notices Minhyuk and out of reflex, Minhyuk jumps too.

“Good Lord, Minhyuk,” Prince Changkyun hisses. 

“Apologies, Prince Changkyun. We couldn’t find you.” Minhyuk whispers. “What are you doing up here? Who are you looking at?”

“I…” Prince Changkyun’s shoulders deflate, and he gazes back out over the balcony’s edge, eyes quickly finding who he was watching before. Minhyuk follows his gaze.

Prince Changkyun is watching a noble who can’t be much older than him. The noble boy is dancing within the circle and the Prince’s eyes follow him as he moves gracefully. His hair is a soft shade of copper, almost ginger, and he’s dressed in an exquisite red and gold coat and pant outfit. His masquerade mask is the color of charcoal, with glittering red gems and feathers. Minhyuk can only see the bottom half of his face as he weaves in and out of the crowd, and he’s smiling widely, grinning like he’s having the time of his life.

“Who is that, Your Grace?” Minhyuk asks softly. 

“His name is Jooheon,” Prince Changkyun murmurs. “He’s the oldest of two sons in the House of Lee. I’ve seen him on my outings to Sarisong. I try not to behave as though I’m stalking him, but... I didn’t know he’d be here tonight.”

Minhyuk glances back at the Prince and suddenly recognizes the look in his eye. 

“You should dance with him, Your Highness,” Minhyuk says with a small smile.

Prince Changkyun glances at him uncomfortably. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I’m much happier up here, just watching.”

“Nonsense, Prince Changkyun,” Minhyuk badgers. “At the very least, talk to him. Pining helplessly after something is unlike you.”

Prince Changkyun sighs. “Fine. But if it ends badly, it’s your fault.”

However childish that remark is, Minhyuk can handle it.

* * *

Changkyun’s heart thuds loudly in his ribcage as he approaches the ballroom. Hoseok and Hyunwoo, dressed in crisp uniform, follow him at a slight distance. Kihyun had managed to figure out what the guards in the ballroom would be wearing at the party and, while doing laundry, swiped two spare uniforms for Hoseok and Hyunwoo to wear so they would blend in. As much as Changkyun gets exasperated by his attendants, he does know they’re all clever in their own ways, and he’s grown to respect it.

He reaches to open the door to the ballroom, then pauses. His hand feels sweaty, as does his forehead under the mask Minhyuk had crafted.

“Just have fun, Your Grace,” Hoseok says kindly from behind him. 

“What if he recognizes me?” Changkyun mumbles.

“Then he recognizes you, and you find a way to deal with it,” Hyunwoo says calmly. “Don’t be afraid.”

Changkyun takes a breath to steel himself, then pushes the doors to the ballroom open and slips inside. There won’t be any grand entrance if he wants to protect his identity and the mask itself is very concealing. Between those two facts and the fact that none of these nobles has seen him in person in literal decades, Changkyun thinks he’ll probably be okay, but he’s not unafraid of being caught. The threat his father poses remains a constant weight on his shoulders, a permanent voice in the back of his head. He longs for a time he can shake the voice away.

Prince Changkyun isn’t exactly confident in his looks or his talents and the more he thinks about Jooheon, the son of the patriarch of the House of Lee, the more he doubts his abilities. Jooheon is such perfection, and Changkyun... isn’t.

He slips into the crowd easily. A few paces away, he glances over his shoulder. He’s surprised when he can no longer see Hoseok and Hyunwoo. He figures they’ll always have an eye on him, but for now, he relishes in the fact that they’re not right behind him, and lets himself get lost in the crowd.

Some of the nobles are already drunk, he notices as he mingles. Every single party-goer is dressed in the most expensive, flashy, glittery clothing Prince Changkyun has ever seen. He’s not unused to seeing everyone dressed so elaborately; nobles are a breed of their own—his father’s appraisal and monthly stipends have made most of them very proud of their titles and their wealth and they tend to dress to impress regardless of the situation. The time he’s spent by himself, wandering the glowing streets of Sarisong, has proven that to Prince Changkyun.

A nobleman dressed in green and black suddenly trips in front of Changkyun, sloshing his cup of alcoholic fox blood all over the floor. He grins drunkenly, taking his mask off as he beckons one of the palace staff members over, and Changkyun gets a good look at his face—he’s Cho Jitae, head of the House of Cho. The poor servant he’s called over gives a tight smile, and bends down to begin mopping the blood before it can stain the marble. Changkyun grimaces in distaste, skirting around the mess. He’ll never understand the point in these parties. They’re just an excuse for self-absorbed wealthy men to behave even more like they have no manners than they already do.

As he gets jostled and tossed around by the noble party-goers, he starts to regret his decision to attend the party. With an agitated sigh, he fights his way through the crowd. He lifts his head to watch where he’s going, and then he sees Jooheon across the room. 

He's talking to someone, and he tosses his head back in a fit of loud laughter. A moment later, the vampire Jooheon is talking to bows delicately at him before vanishing into the crowd. Alone now, Jooheon turns and begins to head in Changkyun's direction. Their eyes meet, and the world comes to a standstill. 

Immediately, his heart skips a beat. He’s glad his mask is as elaborate as it is; he feels heat flush from his neck all the way up to his ears. He can’t look away from Jooheon’s eyes, finding himself completely besotted by the noble’s handsome face.

His stomach twists itself in knots when Jooheon begins making his way over to him. Changkyun stands frozen in place, still staring at Jooheon as the boy weaves through the clamour of dancing partygoers. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” Jooheon says as he approaches Changkyun. 

Changkyun knows who Jooheon is. Of course he does; he’s a noble, and he’s the firstborn son of a man who holds a seat within the King’s royal court. But there’s more to Jooheon than that; Changkyun has seen Jooheon multiple times on his secret outings to Sarisong. Sometimes he leaves the palace just to see him. Jooheon will never know of the things Changkyun has done just to see him, just to admire him from afar, admire him like a caged bird admires a beautiful, free dove.

“This is my first party in this palace,” Changkyun says, surprised at the steadiness of his own voice. It’s not exactly a lie, either. He can’t remember the last time he actually attended one of these.

“Is that so?” 

Jooheon’s plush lips turn up in a coy smile, his pearly fangs poking over his full bottom lip, and Changkyun feels his knees go weak. He nods, unable to find his voice. 

“Allow me to dance you around, then.” Jooheon gracefully holds his hand out for Changkyun to take. 

Nervously, Changkyun puts his hand in Jooheon’s. Jooheon’s hands are larger than his, and warmer, too. His other hand finds Changkyun’s hip, and Jooheon leads the way, sliding easily into the crowd of dancers.

“How old are you?” Jooheon asks.

“Ninety,” Changkyun replies. “And how old are you?”

“I just turned one hundred on October sixth,” Jooheon smiles again, relaxed and easy. “Finally, I’m of age.”

Changkyun doesn’t know what to say to that, so he smiles too. The music picks up and the dance gets faster, and Changkyun has to shift his attention from Jooheon’s dazzling smile to make sure he doesn’t trip over his own feet, or worse, step on Jooheon. He’d learned this dance fairly quickly with Hyunwoo’s help, as it’s rather simple, but it’s different now that he’s dancing with someone who makes his heart flutter and knees feel like jelly.

“Where are you from?” Jooheon asks. “I’ve never met you before. You _are_ nobility, right?”

“In a sense,” Changkyun says vaguely. He hadn’t come up with a backstory or a separate persona or anything, so now he’s just winging it, trying to answer Jooheon’s questions as vaguely as possible.

He doesn’t want to lie to Jooheon, but he doesn’t know what Jooheon will do if he finds out who Changkyun is.

“Your scent is so lovely,” Jooheon says easily. “Like pine. It reminds me of Christmas.”

“Do you celebrate Christmas?” Changkyun asks in surprise.

Jooheon gives him a funny look. “Ah.. not exactly. But I enjoy the winter season.”

Changkyun nods. “I do, as well. The kingdom is especially beautiful with snow atop all the houses.”

“That it is,” Jooheon agrees.

They dance in comfortable silence until the song ends. It’s a lively dance and it’s been a while since Changkyun exercised this way, and he’s focused mainly on not falling over. When the final notes of the music play, Jooheon and Changkyun join the rest of the nobles in applauding the musicians, and then Jooheon leans close to Changkyun’s ear.

“We should sneak away,” He whispers suavely. It takes Changkyun a moment to catch his breath and find his voice.

“I know a place.” He murmurs.

* * *

Hand in hand, Changkyun leads Jooheon out of the ballroom and into the small coat closet directly to the left of the room, and as soon as Changkyun closes the door to the closet, Jooheon pushes him against the wall, crushing his mouth to Changkyun’s with an excited giggle.

“Ah, Jooheon,” Changkyun breathes in pleasure. 

Of all the ways this night could go, this was what he was expecting the least, but he’s definitely not complaining. He’s lost track of how long he’s been crushing on Jooheon. He wants to be someone to Jooheon the way Jooheon is someone to him.

He doesn’t know how long they’re in the closet together, but he gets lost in the pleasure of it all. 

“Mm,” Jooheon hums against Changkyun’s mouth. “So, who exactly are you?”

“Is that important?”

“Why, of course it is,” Jooheon pulls away. “It’s clear you know who _I_ am. Forgive me, but I’m not going to let you kiss me senseless and then just _leave_. At least give me the honor of telling me your name. I won’t kiss you again until you do.”

Changkyun pauses. Before he can react or think of something to say, Jooheon reaches behind his head and pulls at the black ribbon holding his mask to his face, and the masquerade mask clatters to the floor, dark blue feathers floating about. Changkyun freezes, staring into Jooheon’s masked face.

“Oh, you’re very handsome,” Jooheon says coquettishly, but his face turns pink. “I don’t recognize you. I came here to have a good time; I didn’t expect to be so attracted to you, and now I need to know who you are. You smell like a vampire, so.. Are you from this Kingdom? Who _are_ you?”

Changkyun’s stomach ties itself in knots. _He doesn’t know my face at all._

“Um, I...”

Changkyun pauses again. Jooheon doesn’t know him by his face, but as soon as he hears his name, he’s going to know who Changkyun is. He bites his lip. He doesn’t want this to scare Jooheon away, but.. It’s better to be honest, especially about his identity.

“Changkyun,” He says quietly. “My name is Changkyun.”

Changkyun sees the exact moment realization comes to Jooheon. His face drops, plush lips falling open as his skin pales.

“Y-you’re..?”

Changkyun nods grimly. Jooheon pulls his mask off and momentarily Changkyun is breathless, taken aback by his beauty so up close, but then Jooheon drops to his knees, pressing his face to the ground.

“Wait, no,” Changkyun hisses. “Jooheon, you don’t need to do that.”

“You’re the _Prince_ ,” Jooheon whispers, sounding like he can’t believe his own words. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“Please, stand up,” Changkyun begs. “I’m sorry if I’ve startled you. Let me explain.”

Jooheon gets back to his feet and Changkyun reaches for the ribbon tying Jooheon’s mask to his face. Jooheon lets him take it off and Changkyun cradles it in his hands as if it’s made of glass, staring into Jooheon’s striking eyes. He can’t read Jooheon’s expression.

“Jooheon-ssi, I...” He struggles to find something to say. “I’ve liked you for a very long time, you see..”

“You... what?” Jooheon raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Nobody has seen you in six and a half decades. How can you like me?”

“I’ve been interested in you since the first time I saw you, at a little shop in Sarisong,” Changkyun says honestly. “I like you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Jooheon replies weakly. His cheeks are adorably pink.

“I want to get to know you,” Changkyun whispers earnestly. “I understand this is probably very surprising... but I truly mean no harm. I’m not supposed to be at this party but if I weren’t here, I wouldn’t have gotten the courage to even speak to you.”

“You say that like you’re trapped here.” Jooheon murmurs.

Changkyun looks at him, hoping he won’t have to reply to that with words. He hopes his expression is enough.

It appears it is, and Jooheon’s unsure face melts. He seems to ponder for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. “I.. would like to get to know you, as well. How... is there any way we can continue to meet?”

“Not in person,” Changkyun says regretfully. “That, um, could also endanger you and that’s the last thing I want to do. Letters probably work the best. At least... in the beginning.”

“Are you allowed to use bats?” Jooheon asks softly.

“I can,” Changkyun agrees, trying to hide his eagerness. “That... yes. Absolutely.”

Jooheon smiles. “I’ll write to you, then.”

“When shall I expect your letter?”

“Soon, Prince Changkyun. For now... kust be patient.”

He presses a swift kiss to Changkyun’s lips, and takes his mask back from Changkyun, tying it around his head. With a final, shy smile, he leaves the little closet, and Changkyun is left alone to catch his breath, mind whirling.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The second of November. 1889._

Kihyun and Minhyuk awaited news of the ball eagerly. After Minhyuk had reported that Prince Changkyun had an eye for a certain noble’s son, it was all Kihyun could think about as he tidied the Prince’s room. Prince Changkyun returned to his room before the party ended, and his hair was slightly mussed and clothing tousled, a shy, lovestruck smile playing at his lips. Kihyun had known it had gone well.

He’s never seen the Prince happy like this before. He spends a day or so mostly quiet, as if constantly replaying in his mind whatever had occurred during the ball, and he’s in a good mood the entire time, clearly more exhilarated than he has been in a very long time.

Of course, Changkyun’s blissful streak only lasts a little bit, because two days after the Halloween ball, his father’s terrible temper bursts again.

There’s no possible way King Byungwook could have found out Prince Changkyun had attended the party; only the six of them knew. It’s almost as if Byungwook knew his son was feeling elated for the first time in what was probably decades and decided to squash his happiness, like a bug underfoot. 

It’s completely unwarranted. No one’s expecting it. One moment, everything is fine, and the next moment, it’s not.

Again, it happens in the library—Prince Changkyun is there with both of his guards and Kihyun, perusing the nonfiction section, when the King storms in, already yelling, a white-faced Seokjin on his heel. 

“This crown!” Byungwook shouts, ripping the bejeweled, golden circlet off his head. “ _This_ crown! Is _this_ what you want?”

“What? What’s the matter with you?” Changkyun backs away from his raging father, the book in his hands clattering to the floor. His eyes turn fearful.

Byungwook’s eyes flash as he rushes at his son, brandishing the crown like it’s a weapon, and Hoseok shoves Kihyun out of the way. Byungwook swings the crown, and Changkyun raises his arms to protect his face, and Hyunwoo darts forward, but he’s too late—

The sound of ripping flesh splits the air. Changkyun shouts in pain, and blood splatters on the stone library’s floor.

Kihyun’s hands fly to his mouth. Stumbling back, Changkyun cups his left hand in his right, warm blood spilling from the gash across his left palm. Byungwook’s arm falls to his side, hand wrapped around the crown. Blood drips from a pointed spike on the golden crown. 

Prince Changkyun looks at his father, eyes wide. Byungwook looks drunk, staring dazedly at his son. He seems mesmerized at the sight of his son's blood. Kihyun itches to run forward, to take Changkyun’s bloodied hand and wrap it, but he’s frozen. He’s frozen, and whether it’s in shock or in fear, he doesn’t know.

“I don’t want _your_ crown. That crown now has my blood on it,” Changkyun whispers, clenching his wrist. “When I am king, I want my own.”

“ _When_ you are king, huh?” Byungwook sneers. “And what makes you think you'll be a better king than me? You hate me, I know, but—”

“We _all_ hate you!” Changkyun cries, a growl at the edge of his voice. His eyes blaze.

“—and you will be _just like me_ _!_ ” Byungwook bellows, and his voice is so loud the bookcases themselves seem to tremble. “You can plan and learn all you want, but they’ll never love a king who hates himself.”

“You love yourself, and they hate you,” Changkyun snarls.

“And what are you? You’re worthless,” Byungwook hisses. “You and I are a lot alike, you know. You’re nothing to me. You’ll be nothing to the people, either.”

He waves the crown again and for a horrified second Kihyun thinks he’s going to try to swing at Changkyun again, but Changkyun presses himself to the bookcase behind him, like he’s a victim in a cage with an angry, rabid animal. At that moment, Kihyun thinks, that’s exactly what he is.

“You are a monster,” Changkyun whispers. "I am nothing like you."

Byungwook growls, his sharp fangs glittering menacingly in the candlelight. He barely spares the bloody crown a glance as he places it back on his greying head. 

Changkyun’s blood slides steadily down the golden spike. Kihyun feels faint.

The King glares viciously one last time at his son, then turns around. He stalks away as if he hadn’t just made his own son bleed, as if he hadn’t ruined the happy high Prince Changkyun had been running. 

The doors snap shut behind King Byungwook and the small noise sets everything back into motion. Kihyun hurries towards the Prince. He takes his bloody hand and stifles a gasp. He can tell immediately the cut is deep, and burgundy blood runs in the lines of his hand, in between his fingers, down his wrist. Prince Changkyun doesn’t say anything, staring emptily at the bleeding wound.

“Get Yoongi,” Kihyun turns around, speaking to anyone who will listen. “Please!”

Seokjin vanishes. Hyunwoo and Hoseok stand, frozen in shock, both white in the face. Kihyun pulls his handkerchief out of his pant pocket. His mother had made it for him when he’d been accepted to the role of attendant, months ago. 

The cloth is stark white and has never been used, but he presses it to the gash on Prince Changkyun’s hand without hesitation. Prince Changkyun hisses gently in pain, and they watch as his blood seeps into the white fabric, staining it forever.

* * *

Kihyun, Seokjin, Hoseok and Hyunwoo watch silently as Yoongi dresses the cut, wrapping Prince Changkyun’s hand in white, pillowy gauze. They’re in the staff kitchens, alone. Upon arriving at the library, Yoongi had taken one look at the blood dripping steadily to the floor, Changkyun’s pale face and Kihyun’s ghastly expression and dragged all of them to the little scullery room off the kitchens. 

No words have been exchanged from that moment. No one has a voice. No one has words to speak.

“Do you think he’s right?” Changkyun asks. His voice startles Kihyun. It’s the first time he’s spoken in nearly thirty minutes. He’s surprised the Prince is the one to break the silence.

It takes Kihyun a second to find his voice. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Hyunwoo and Hoseok look at each other. He can’t read the expression they share.

“W-who, Your Grace?” Kihyun asks shakily.

“My father.”

“Ri-right about what, Prince Changkyun?”

Prince Changkyun glances up at him. His eyes are cold and tired. Yoongi ties off the gauze bandage, and holds Changkyun’s damaged hands between both of his, gazing at the Prince’s face until he looks him in the eyes. 

“Come get me tomorrow,” The physician says softly. “I’ll take the bandages off, give you some medicine, and redress the cut. If you’re in any pain before then, I’ve left a bottle of pain medication with Minhyuk-ah.”

Changkyun nods in thanks, and as Yoongi stands and floats from the room, the Prince flexes his wrist, testing his range of movement with the gauze wrapped tightly around his hand and wrist. He waits until Yoongi has left the room before turning his expectant gaze on Kihyun, bandaged hand falling to his lap.

“Do you think I am like him?” He asks. Kihyun’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Prince Changkyun,” He murmurs, properly worried about him. “I’m not sure the king—”

“I couldn’t care less about what he thinks, or what he knows, or what he thinks he knows. His opinion stopped mattering to me a long time ago.” Changkyun interrupts and turns to Kihyun with a thoughtful, slightly despondent expression on his face. “Your opinion, however, I value. So tell me, Kihyun-ssi, what you think. Do you think he’s right?”

Kihyun glances at Seokjin. The head attendant, still slightly pale, shakes his head in warning, eyes wide. 

“I’m afraid I’m not in a position to give you my thoughts, highness.” Kihyun says carefully.

“You are if I’m asking you directly.”

“Perhaps my opinion isn’t what you want to hear.”

“I thought you were my friend, Kihyun. I’ll take your opinion over his any day."

“We _are_ friends,” Kihyun says quietly. “You and the King could not be more different. Please, Your Grace, believe me. There are no similarities between you."

Prince Changkyun pauses. 

"I can only tell myself that I am not like him so many times before it stops being true."

"Prince Changkyun..." Kihyun breathes, nauseous at the thought. "Please, hear my words."

He can't stop himself from reaching forward to lay his hand on the Prince's bandaged fist. "You are so kind, Your Grace. Compassionate, willing to listen, willing to help. Your father is none of those things. Please, don't believe for even a moment you're anything like him. Be kinder to yourself.”

Kihyun sees Seokjin close his eyes.

“And why would I do that? I’m not trying to be like my father.”

“There’s a balance, Your Highness. You can take care of yourself without behaving like your father. I would advise you to find that balance. You’re someone who deserves to be respected, even by yourself. _Especially_ by yourself.”

“The people want a selfless king. No, they _need_ a selfless king.”

“You can put the kingdom before yourself and still know your own limits. Self respect is a gem to be held. Your self-worth should come from yourself, not anyone else, Your Highness.”

“I don’t understand. Self respect is a poison. It turned my father’s heart black.” 

“Being self absorbed and being kind to yourself are different.”

“How can I be kind to myself when I’ve done nothing to deserve my own kindness? The Kingdom is the most important thing. I cannot be arrogant. I cannot think of myself first."

“You can respect yourself and value the kingdom at the same time, Prince Changkyun. Self-loathing and humility are not the same.”

“They’re not looking for someone who is afraid to make sacrifices.”

“It’s not martyrdom to throw yourself in front of a carriage that isn’t going to hit anyone. You must learn to love yourself before you can love anyone or anything else.” 

Dead silence. 

Changkyun’s eyes grow glassy and he turns away, gazes out the window, pulls his hand away from Kihyun. Kihyun sees Seokjin close his eyes, sees Hyunwoo and Hoseok share another look. Hoseok looks close to tears. Dread pools in Kihyun’s stomach. How could he be so careless with his words?

But then Changkyun breathes out a shaky sigh. 

He smiles weakly, humorlessly, then exhales again. 

He stands up, and begins moving to the doorway. Hyunwoo, Hoseok and Seokjin pause in surprise, unsure of what to do. Changkyun glances at Hoseok and Hyunwoo, and for a second Kihyun thinks he’ll say something to them. But all he does is glance at them, and then moves past them.

“I hope this means you’ll listen to me when I give you advice,” Kihyun dares to say. “I want only the best for you, my Prince.”

The room loses its breath once more. Changkyun stops walking momentarily, then turns to look at Kihyun over his shoulder. 

“You’ve proven yourself to care about me,” Changkyun says softly. Then he turns back around. “I... do not know how to deal with that quite yet. For now, just... come with me.”

Kihyun hurries to follow him. 

He’s not super surprised when Hyunwoo and Hoseok also follow, but they do so at a proper distance; they’re far enough away that Kihyun is sure they can’t hear whatever Changkyun and he say to each other. Kihyun may not like them very much, but Changkyun has somehow grown to be something like friends with the guards. Staying a few feet away to let him speak with Kihyun in private shows Kihyun that they’ve at least started to care about him as well. Kihyun can respect their friendship even if he’d rather not be part of it. 

“Kihyun, I need to make something clear,” Changkyun says. “I do not wish I was dead. I have too much time for that, too much I want to do. But I... sometimes, after a night like this one... there’s a little voice in the back of my mind that thinks that being gone would be better than being here. And if I could die to save the people from hunger and poverty, then I would.”

Kihyun is both slightly relieved and incredibly saddened at the statement. His concern for Prince Changkyun’s mental health has begun to rear its head very suddenly, and he needs to be careful with how he deals with it. 

“You cannot let your father bait you, Prince Changkyun,” Kihyun says softly, hurrying slightly to keep up with Changkyun’s pace. “Are you listening to your own words? You are smart and strong, and you care deeply. You must understand that about yourself, and respect it, too.”

Changkyun just sighs. “Your words have made an impression on me. How can I be a good, kind, empathetic king to people who need one, when I apparently can’t be kind to myself?”

“Knowing we care is the first step,” Kihyun says softly. 

“I feel pathetic. There are people in this country who are starving and dying and are without blood and I can’t do anything. I pity myself for being trapped.”

“It’s not selfish to wish your own situation were better, Prince Changkyun,” Kihyun says seriously. “You are allowed to feel for yourself. It is not selfish to desire change.”

“I hate talking about this,” Changkyun mumbles, moving faster. 

“We don’t have to talk about it, Your Grace.”

“I don’t understand. You’ve known me for... not even five months? What have I done to deserve this? Why do you care about me so much?”

Kihyun pauses. Changkyun looks terribly young at that moment. He’s been deprived of love and attention and care his entire life; that’s six and a half decades of being abused and ignored. Kihyun and Minhyuk and Hyungwon have treated him with kindness, told him to take care of himself; they’ve only done the bare minimum. And despite pushing it away in the beginning, he clings to it like it’s a lifeline. 

Changkyun is absolutely more than efficient when it comes to battle strategy, knowledge of history, caring about his people, wanting to help and fix life for the kingdom's citizens. But he lacks the self love and self respect that a proper king needs. Kihyun wants to fix that. He knows Minhyuk and Hyungwon want to fix that.

“You haven’t done anything to deserve it. You just do,” Kihyun says slowly. “You shouldn’t be as astounded as you are that we’re treating you with kindness. It disturbs me, my Prince.”

“You are not responsible for my happiness,” Changkyun says shortly. “Only I am. It’s my own fault that I won’t be a great leader.”

“That... that’s not true, Highness,” Kihyun whispers, aghast. “You cannot let your father ruin you.”

“I have no one.”

“You have _us_ ,” Kihyun says earnestly. “We stand with you, Prince Changkyun.”

Prince Changkyun glances at him, and a single salty tear glides down his cheek of porcelain. Kihyun wants to wipe it away.

He doesn’t.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The third of November. 1889._

“I can’t stay here much longer.”

The words turn Minhyuk’s heart cold. He turns away from Prince Changkyun’s dresser to face him in horror. His eyes fall on Prince Changkyun’s hand. Kihyun is sitting across from him, seated on his velvet blue ottoman, redressing the cut. Even from the distance, Minhyuk can see the gash and his stomach flips at the sight of it.

Hyungwon and Kihyun have also paused to look at Prince Changkyun, who sits with his head bowed, injured hand cupped in Kihyun’s.

“Whatever do you mean, Prince Changkyun?” Kihyun asks gently, but Minhyuk knows exactly what he means.

By daybreak, the entire castle had heard of the Prince’s row with his father. Minhyuk can still remember the way his heart had stopped when Yoongi had come to him while he was doing laundry, holding a bottle of liquid pain reliever in white hands as he explained what had gone down. The crown on Byungwook’s head will forever be stained with the Prince’s blood.

“Every time I left this damned castle, even if it’s because I snuck out, it felt like a weight off my chest. I can breathe when I’m not within the confines of this palace. I can’t stand the way citizens of this kingdom think I stay here by choice, that I’m too shy to make any appearances. I need them to understand that I am _here_. I need them to know I will fix this. I have to get out of this castle, Kihyun,” Changkyun says, voice cracking in earnest. “I have to get out. I am useless here.”

Kihyun doesn’t say anything as he continues wrapping his hand. Minhyuk shares a sad glance with Hyungwon. He doesn’t know how Prince Changkyun has lasted so long. Sixty-five of being abused, being trapped with his tormentor in a giant empty castle. 

“Prince Changkyun, you are stronger than you think you are.” he surprises himself. Everyone else turns to stare at him, but he keeps speaking. “Please, give yourself more credit for what you’re capable of. Think about your situation—you have suffered losses no one deserves to suffer; you’ve handled over half a century of torment by your own father, and yet here you are, not unscathed but still _alive_ , and thinking about the people before yourself. I am amazed by you every day, Prince Changkyun. Your father has done everything to keep you restrained but even then, you continue to be the opposite of helpless. You think you are powerless here but even going to the ball the other night is an act of defiance of itself.”

Prince Changkyun stays silent, bowing his head so Minhyuk can’t see his eyes. Kihyun ties off the gauze bandaging, but he keeps his hand over the Prince’s in an act of comfort.

“So you want to help the people. What is it you want to do? How will you get their attention?”

“Speeches,” Prince Changkyun says. His voice is shaky in a way that sounds tearful, but Minhyuk doesn’t call attention to it, focusing instead on his words. “I... I like to write. I’m good at writing. I want to send letters, meet people, talk to them.”

“Do you have an official signature or seal?” Hyungwon asks.

Prince Changkyun shakes his head. “I do, but the people wouldn’t recognize it as mine. I’ve never written anything official. Jooheon didn’t even know my face when—uh... never mind. The point is, they don’t know me.”

“So we’ll make them know you,” Hyungwon says resolutely. “We can go to a city and you can deliver a speech. If we do it right, your father won’t find out.”

“How can we ensure he won’t find out?” Changkyun sighs, sitting back in his chair. “When we left for Tansu, he somehow became aware I was no longer in the palace. Somehow he knows I left the castle; that’s why he employed Hyunwoo-ssi and Hoseok-ssi. If I’m planning to leave, they’ll tell him."

“Not if they don’t get the chance,” Kihyun mumbles.

Minhyuk winces slightly. “That sounds a little threatening, Kihyun. Hyungwon-ah is right; if we’re careful and do this right, your father won’t know. But we’ll need to plan when and where you want to go.”

“Haegye,” Prince Changkyun says.

“That’s quite far,” Kihyun says gently. “What about Yangjin?”

“Haegye is a trading area. It has a low population and if we take a carriage and hurry, I think we can make it in two days, maybe less. It only took us a few hours to get to Tansu on horseback.”

“None of us have ever been to Haegye. I don’t know the first thing about the city,” Hyungwon counters. “Perhaps we should send a letter first, to warn them of your arrival.”

Prince Changkyun pauses. “I think that’s too risky. They might think it’s a hoax. Perhaps... perhaps I can get Hoseok to come with us. He can send a letter to his family; if it comes directly from him, they’ll know it’s the truth.”

Minhyuk knows what the Prince is thinking; the shorter guard is from the trading city. He’d know all about it.

“But the guards’ job is to watch you,” Kihyun protests. He doesn’t seem to understand.

Prince Changkyun shrugs. “They can watch me in Haegye. We can think about this more as we develop a plan. We’re not in a rush but I’d like to have a plan sooner rather than later. Will you help me craft a speech?”

“Of course, Prince Changkyun,” Minhyuk says, smiling widely. “Of course we’ll help you.”

Prince Changkyun is young, and he’s suffered a lot in his life. And yet, he has a drive to help people in worse situations, a drive that is strong enough to encourage him to defy the threat of his father. They’ll need to be extremely careful, but Minhyuk can’t help but think this is the start of something wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, realistically, a vampire is not scientifically possible. Any living being can only make noise if it breathes, and all living beings need a way to digest food for energy, and traditional vampires are literally walking dead bodies. That wasn't gonna work for this story, so my creation is this: vampires that look dead but really aren't. Vampires, in this story, have beating hearts, working digestive tracts, and brains. I'm sorry if you're more of a traditional vampire fan but I needed to create creatures that would work for the plot.


	5. Chapter 5: Oversimplifications and Blatant Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wh-what is this?” Kihyun asks. Hyungwon is already white in the face.
> 
> “Yoo Kihyun, Chae Hyungwon, and Lee Minhyuk,” The guard directly in front of Hyungwon speaks sharply, his deep voice booming with aggression. “You are under arrest by order of the King.”

**Chapter 5: Oversimplifications and Blatant Complications**

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The fourth of November. 1889._

“We’ll leave by sunset on November ninth,” Changkyun declares.

Minhyuk freezes, completely blindsided. That’s five nights away and his speech isn’t even done yet, let alone proofread or edited. They still haven’t decided what they’ll do about the guards, and Prince Changkyun has been the least bit subtle about the plans; at this point, Minhyuk is sure that Yoongi and Seokjin are already onto them. Minhyuk doesn’t think they’re even remotely ready.

“We’ll need to let Yoongi and Seokjin know we’ll be gone,” Prince Changkyun continues. 

“Your speech isn’t done yet,” Minhyuk protests.

“Are we ready to leave that soon?” Hyungwon asks, voice a little strained. Minhyuk is glad he’s not the only one thinking it.

“What will we do about Hoseok and Hyunwoo?” Kihyun asks, an eyebrow raised.

Prince Changkyun pauses for a moment, as if caught off by the onslaught of their thoughts. He’s bent over his desk, several blank pieces of parchment sprawled across the varnished surface. Hyungwon stands near him, ready to help if he needs it, while Kihyun and Minhyuk sit a few paces away on the carpeted floor, sorting through his books. The Prince isn’t quite an organized person—his bookshelves are all out of sorts despite Kihyun reorganizing them only a month ago. The Prince had rather sheepishly admitted to them that when he gets lost in thought or wrapped up in a great book, he doesn’t think about where it should go and just shoves it back on the shelf.

“I was going to ask them to come with us,” Prince Changkyun says coolly. “Hoseok will be excellent help manuevering around Haegye.”

Minhyuk shares a bewildered look with Kihyun.

“Forgive me, my Prince, but what in God’s name makes you think they’ll agree to coming with us?” Kihyun asks incredulously.

Prince Changkyun turns around in his chair, a soft smirk. “I’ve started to trust them a little bit. I’m almost positive they heard our discussion the other night; they were only down the hall, and as far as I’m concerned, they haven’t tried to stop me. I don’t know that they will. But there’s no other solution; I cannot avoid them, so they have to come with us. If I ask them, they’ll either agree or they won’t. I can only hope they will. It’s a.. Leap of faith, if you will?”

“Well, when will you ask? What will you do if they say no?” 

“I’ll ask soon. And I won’t mention that you three are coming. If they say no, we won’t leave,” Changkyun says, his voice turning grim. “If they take this issue to my father, I’ll make it look like they caught me. I’ll take whatever punishment my father decides to deal. As long as none of the five of you are hurt, I don’t care what he does.”

Though touched at his willingness to protect them, Minhyuk is more concerned that Prince Changkyun is willing to just lay down and take whatever punishment is given. He’s also a bit concerned that the Prince isn’t thinking this through properly. The King is a vicious, cold man—even when violence is entirely unwarranted—and frankly, Minhyuk often fears for the Prince. Prince Changkyun is more clever and tenacious than anyone Minhyuk has ever met; considering the Prince’s current situation, he’s inspired every day by the Prince’s attitude and outlook. Minhyuk doesn't like the look of weakness or passiveness on him, but he certainly wouldn’t want to see him lay, bleeding, at the hands of his own father. 

He can’t seem to shake the image. It bothers him the entire night, even as he completes his idle chores and takes his break, sipping at a cup of tea by himself in the staff kitchens. He can’t stop thinking about the Prince and his situation: the danger he’s willingly putting himself in, how he already seems to trust the guards that are supposed to keep him inside the castle. 

Minhyuk will admit, Prince Changkyun has absolutely gotten closer to Hoseok and Hyunwoo. He talks to them like he talks to Minhyuk and Kihyun and Hyungwon—with respect and natural kindness, despite his shyness and hesitance to let them get close to him. He’s begun to ask them things about being in the army, about training, about their families—Minhyuk thinks it’s a sign he’s genuinely interested in befriending them. Minhyuk doesn’t believe that Changkyun’s desire to be friends with them is just a strategy or part of a plan anymore. He thinks it’s more than that now.

And Minhyuk has never been great at reading those he’s not particularly close to, but he is able to see a certain softness in Hyunwoo’s eyes and Hoseok’s smile when they interact with the Prince. 

The main problem is, Minhyuk can only observe their behavior towards each other occasionally. It’s fairly easy for Minhyuk to see that Hoseok and Hyunwoo are starting to become comfortable around the Prince, but only when Kihyun and Hyungwon aren’t within their proximity. Minhyuk has by far been the least combative with the guards, and when it’s just him with the Prince and the guards, they’re genial and relaxed and easy to get along with. But there’s only so many opportunities within the night for Minhyuk to be alone with them, and as soon as Kihyun or Hyungwon come into the picture, Hoseok’s lips tighten, and Hyunwoo’s blank stare returns. Minhyuk is, frankly, at a loss about what to do about this problem; he’s still not quite able to read either guard, he knows that Hyungwon only pretends to like them, and Kihyun is obvious about his distaste. Minhyuk had sort of thought that by witnessing Prince Changkyun befriend his guards, Kihyun and Hyungwon would take the hint and do the same.

Clearly, their opinions differ.

The other problem is that his crush on Hyunwoo has turned into something bigger, something he can’t ignore. He catches himself thinking about the older guard sometimes, imagining what kissing him and hugging him would feel like. It’s unbearable, really, especially because he’s barely worked up the courage to even make eye contact with Hyunwoo—but he can’t help it. He’s not yet ready to admit he’s in love, but he knows he can’t deny what he feels for the guard. 

He just has to make sure it doesn’t become a problem for anyone except himself.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The seventh of November. 1889._

It’s nearing sunrise, and Minhyuk, Kihyun and Hyungwon are in the laundry room with the Prince’s next shipment of clothing when several armed guards come into the room. They’re loud, clearly wishing to make their entrance known, and once they’re all inside—there’s about seven or eight of them—they block both doors, standing in a semicircle, caging Minhyuk and the other two against the wall. Bewildered, Minhyuk around.

“Wh-what is this?” Kihyun asks. Hyungwon is already white in the face.

“Yoo Kihyun, Chae Hyungwon, and Lee Minhyuk,” The guard directly in front of Hyungwon speaks sharply, his deep voice booming with aggression. “You are under arrest by order of the King.”

Minhyuk’s heart starts to thud loudly in his ears, nausea coiling a sick snake in his stomach. He watches in horror as Kihyun’s face pales, as Hyungwon stammers to come up with a response.

“We’ve done nothing,” Hyungwon stutters. “Wh-why are we—”

“You’ll be held in the dungeons in the basement until King Byungwook decides what to do with you,” The soldier speaks again, narrowing his eyes. “It’s in your best interest to come willingly. Putting up a fight will only result in injury.”

Numb, Minhyuk lets the two guards closest to him grab him by his elbows and start dragging him out the door, leaving Prince Changkyun’s crate of clothing behind. He keeps his head down as the guards yank him through the hallways. He’s fairly sure they pass Seokjin or Yoongi, but his eyes are on his shoes as he fights bile rising in his throat and he can’t see who it is. His head is filled with white noise and static as the guards drag him down some stairs into a section of the castle he’s never been in, and they finally let him go once he’s in a small cell.

He looks around him bleakly. The dungeons are very poorly lit; a single candelabra is holstered to each wall, and the entire space is longer than it is wide. Three individual cells line two walls and there’s a small room at the end opposite the door. There are wooden rafters supporting the aching stone ceiling, but the rafters are all rotted and splintered and covered on moss. There's a moldy gutter in the center of the stone floor, rusted and cracked, and this is how Minhyuk realizes they're underground—disgusting water is pooled at the slats of the iron gutter, murky and brown. A shadowed figure shuffles out of the room, sidestepping the nasty gutter easily as the guards begin to leave, and then there’s the screech of a corroded lock sliding into place.

Minhyuk glances towards the bars of his cell, trying to ignore the massive chains attached to the wall. Underneath the chains is a heap of moldy fabric and green bones. Swallowing, he looks around himself. Kihyun is opposite him, Hyungwon next to him. Kihyun is already pacing and his hands are in his hair, and Hyungwon is perched on the pathetic excuse of a bed: the wooden platform suspended on the wall. His expression is blank and despondent and his skin is almost white, even in the weak candlelight.

“Escape is futile,” the shadowed figure says gravelly. Minhyuk realizes he’s probably the one who guards the dungeons; the firelight catches him and his skin is almost see through. “I don’t know what you’re in here for, but if His Majesty, the King himself sent you down here, I don’t know what’s going to happen to you.”

The figure slinks back into his room at the end of the hall, leaving the door open a crack. At first, all there is is silence. There’s the sound of Kihyun’s footsteps on the stone in his cell, and there’s the sound of Hyungwon’s shaky breathing, and there’s the quiet snapping of the little flames on the candles, and there’s silence.

“I bet they did this,” Kihyun says lowly. 

“Who?” Minhyuk glances up. He can barely see Kihyun through the darkness.

“The guards!” Kihyun snaps. “Prince Changkyun said that he trusts them but I bet they’ve done this. I bet they told the King. Oh, God, what’s going to happen to Prince Changkyun? What’s going to happen to us? I knew this was a bad idea, I knew Prince Changkyun should never have trusted them—”

“Kihyun, don’t you know how childish you are being right now?” Minhyuk can’t stop himself, letting the frustration that’s been building for months start to boil over. He can feel Hyungwon and Kihyun both turn to look at him in shock, and he stares into the darkness where he thinks Kihyun is. “Your behavior towards them has been absolutely petty and foolish. I know you can hold a grudge and you want to protect the Prince, but what if your inability to treat the guards with respect has caused this?”

“What?”

“Have you been deliberately ignoring it, or are you blind? Prince Changkyun _does_ trust the guards, and the guards _like_ him. You really don’t see the way they look at him? You don’t see the way Prince Changkyun treats them the same way he treats us? You know, maybe it’s _your_ behavior that irritates them. You’re always trying to start fires with them, always trying to anger them! Don’t act like the victim when they push back, Kihyun, you’re smarter than that!”

Kihyun comes closer to the bars of his cell and makes eye contact with Minhyuk. His eyes are flashing, and the candlelight makes him look scarier. Minhyuk has never enjoyed fighting with anyone, let alone Kihyun.

“Have you forgotten their job? Have you forgotten the reason they’re even there in the first place? Prince Changkyun said it himself; they’re loyal to the _King_ , not him. I don’t know what your plan was, or what his plan was, but Prince Changkyun’s decision to trust them was wrong and idiotic. And as for _you_ —just because you’re head over heels Hyunwoo-ssi doesn’t mean you have to defend them. Who’s more important, hm? Me or them? _Us_ or them?”

Minhyuk is momentarily speechless, and a little hurt at Kihyun’s words. He’s never once talked to Kihyun—or anyone—about how he feels about the older guard, and that alone has caught him off guard, but Kihyun’s quickness to use it against him is what really hurts. Anger swells in his throat, but he swallows it back, spluttering to come up with a response. 

“Never mind how I do or don’t feel about them. Have you thought about what might happen if you and Hyungwon had stopped acting like _children_ and at least _tried_ to treat them with _some_ level of decency? Would that have killed you inside, to at least be _nice_?”

“You’ve barely interacted with them at all,” Kihyun shoots back. “Don’t talk to me about engaging with them. They are not our friends.”

“But they could be!” Minhyuk cries. He’s getting a sense of deja vu—this argument reminds him of the first night they worked in this stupid palace, arguing about the Prince. “When will your pride stop mattering to you more than your relationships? Don’t you know how arrogant you sound?”

“Arrogant?” Kihyun scoffs. “At least I’m not hopelessly _stupid_ —”

“Hyungs, please,” Hyungwon’s sob cuts the tension in the air like a sad knife and Kihyun and Minhyuk both turn to his cell in horror. The frustration that had been steadily rising in Minhyuk’s chest dissipates almost immediately at the sound of Hyungwon’s tears. Minhyuk can hardly see him, but once his eyes adjust to the darkness of the cell, he can see Hyungwon’s silhouette on the wooden slab, bent forward with his head in his hands.

“Hyungwon-ah,” Kihyun says sadly.

Minhyuk hurries to the righthand side of his cell; only a single wall of bars separates him from Hyungwon and despite their distance, he tries to reach for Hyungwon through the bars anyway. Hyungwon’s hunched shoulders shake with another sob and Minhyuk feels his heart ache.

“Hey, Wonnie-yah,” Minhyuk says softly. “Ignore us hyungs fighting. It’s gonna be okay, you know?”

“What if it isn’t?” Hyungwon says brokenly, voice shaking. “What if Prince Changkyun doesn’t get us out? What if he doesn’t care at all? What if _he’s_ done this?”

“Hyungwon-ah, stop that,” Kihyun chastises gently from across the room. “You heard Prince Changkyun earlier in the week; he wants to protect us. He hasn’t done this, and I’m sure once he knows, he’ll find a way to get us out. We know him, Hyungwon. We know what he wants.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten attached to this,” Hyungwon cries. “My dad even told me not to fall in love with the Prince’s words. Promises can be broken. I can’t believe I let myself get attached to the Prince and to working this job. Hyung, how am I going to feed my family if I die?”

“You’re not going to die,” Kihyun protests weakly, but he doesn’t sound like he fully believes himself, either.

Hyungwon breaks into heart-wrenching cries that echo in the emptiness of the dungeons and Minhyuk feels his heart snap clean in half. He glances over his shoulder at Kihyun’s cell and doesn’t see the other man right away, but once his eyes focus he can only slightly see Kihyun on the floor of his cell, knees pulled up to his chest and his head down.

Minhyuk lowers himself onto his own wooden slab. There’s a mattress too pitiful to even be considered that—it’s a limp burlap sack stuffed with soggy hay and straw—and a pillow, green with mold, that doesn’t look the slightest bit comfortable. Above his bed is a window at ground level, slotted with rusted bars, and from the angle he’s at under the window, he can see the sunrise above the treeline of the Yeoneung Forest. Despite the danger that sunlight poses to vampires, he personally thinks seeing the sun rise is a beautiful sight to behold. He likes watching the sunrise when he can, likes watching the city fall asleep to the celestial orb.

Right now, though, he can’t do anything other than close his eyes and shy away from the light, listen to Hyungwon cry, and pray this is a nightmare.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The eighth of November. 1889._

Prince Changkyun sighs impatiently, still in his sleepwear, as he tugs the heavy drapes away from the windows above his dresser, allowing the bright, full moon to lay its light across the floor. He’s only using one hand. His left hand is still bandaged, but it seems to be paining him this evening, Hoseok realizes.

None of his attendants have showed up yet, which is incredibly unlike them. Hoseok and Hyunwoo are usually awake a half hour before Prince Changkyun, but the three attendants must be up and moving around at least an hour before then. It’s nearing ten in the evening; Prince Changkyun has been awake for twenty minutes, and the attendants are still nowhere to be found.

“I will have words,” Prince Changkyun hisses, turning to face Hoseok. “Do you know how to treat and wrap a wound?”

“Of course,” Hoseok says easily. In the academy, they’d all been trained to clean and dress wounds of all kinds.

“Good,” Prince Changkyun says, and beckons Hoseok over to his dresser where he reaches into the top drawer and pulls out a roll of gauze and a bottle of some kind of liquid painkiller. “Come help me.”

“Absolutely, Your Grace,” Hoseok agrees, hurrying over. In all honesty, he’s a little too pleased that Changkyun asked him. He’s been thinking of ways he can extend his hand to Prince Changkyun; it makes him embarrassingly happy when Prince Changkyun does it first.

Prince Changkyun perches himself atop the dresser as Hoseok begins to unwrap his left hand. When he pulls away the old gauze and looks at the long cut that’s only just begun to heal, the memories of the confrontation that gave Prince Changkyun the gash come back.

He tries his best to keep his expression blank as he rubs ointment on the cut. The Prince doesn’t react at all; he’s gazing out the open window at the city below. The scab over the gash is thin, so Hoseok applies the medicine as carefully as he can. If he didn’t know any better, he might think the Prince had accidentally cut himself with a knife while cooking. But he does know better, and he shudders every time he thinks about what he witnessed that night.

Getting to know Prince Changkyun had taken some time, but as Hoseok got closer to him, the more he came to hate King Byungwook. The King is his employer, and frankly, he’s paying excellent money for him and Hyunwoo to “keep the Prince in line,” as he’d put it, but he’s also a selfish prick, and he’s the main reason for Prince Changkyun’s blatant unhappiness.

Hoseok likes to think he’s in tune to the emotions and feelings of those around him, but he’s sure he can’t be the only one who sees Prince Changkyun’s hatred for himself, hatred for his father, and hatred for his situation, all hidden under his blank stare.

Establishing Hoseok and Hyunwoo as his private guards was just another part of King Byungwook’s apparent goal to torment the Prince. Two of the attendants have made it quite clear they don’t appreciate Hoseok and Hyunwoo’s presence, and Hoseok knows that Prince Changkyun doesn’t have any reason to trust Hoseok or Hyunwoo. 

And yet he does. At least, he seems to. Hoseok wonders why.

As Hoseok ties off the gauze bandaging, Prince Changkyun gets to his feet and uses his good hand to pull open one of the lower drawers on the dresser. Hoseok watches quietly as he pulls out a plain white tunic and then closes the drawer before making his way over to the closet. He doesn’t say anything nor does he make eye contact with either Hoseok or Hyunwoo as he shuts himself inside the expansive room.

Hoseok and Hyunwoo share a look. Prince Changkyun doesn’t smile. His resting expression is a blank, walled gaze. He’s not easy to read. The Prince truly is an enigma and Hoseok often finds himself wondering how to better his relationship with Prince Changkyun. They didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.

Changkyun leaves the closet at the same time that a knock at the door pulls Hoseok from his thoughts, and Hyunwoo opens the giant mahogany door with practiced ease. Hoseok is expecting Hyungwon to stumble in, apologizing for being late, holding a tray of food and blood. To their shared surprise, though, it’s Seokjin who enters with a tray of various fruits and a cup of some kind of animal blood. His smile is tight.

“Good evening, Prince Changkyun,” Seokjin murmurs brightly. “I’ve brought your breakfast.”

“Thank... you?” Changkyun says, an eyebrow raised, and nods at his desk, gesturing for Seokjin to set the tray on the surface. 

They watch as Seokjin places the tray on the desk surface, and after lighting a few candles around the desk, he excuses himself and leaves rather hurriedly. Hyunwoo stares after him in confusion, and Hoseok’s curiosity piques. 

“Where are your attendants?” Hoseok can’t help himself asking. 

Prince Changkyun sighs in irritation. “I don’t know. This isn’t acceptable.”

He picks up the tiny wooden two-pronged fork and spears a pear slice, and chews on it carefully. Hoseok knows he’s put off by the absence of his attendants, but Hoseok can’t help but find Prince Changkyun a little adorable. He eats quickly and silently, and once he’s finished with his cup of blood, he ducks back into the closet again. 

When Prince Changkyun leaves his closet, still dressed in his billowy white regency shirt and black pants, he doesn’t say anything as he sits down at the ornate vanity in between the closet door and the bathroom door and pulls a necklace out of the top left drawer. Hoseok watches through the mirror as Changkyun puts it on—it’s a simple black ribbon, and a sizable black diamond set in silver rests just above the neckline of his tunic.

“Think I’ll take a walk around the gardens today,” Changkyun says offhandedly. “I haven’t gotten out in a while.”

“The moonlight will be good for you,” Hoseok agrees. Prince Changkyun nods as he reaches for a pair of silver rings.

“Do you garden, Your Grace?” Hyunwoo asks curiously.

“No, no,” Prince Changkyun says, slipping the rings on the index and ring fingers of his right hand. “But I do enjoy seeing the fruits and vegetables that Jimin and Taehyung grow. I meant to ask Hyungwon-hyung to come with us, but since he, uh, has decided he’d rather not show today, I’ll just take you two.”

Regrettably, Hoseok doesn’t know who Jimin and Taehyung are. He’s only been to a select few parts of the palace—he’s supposed to watch the Prince at all times, and Prince Changkyun spends most of his time in his room—and he’s more than a little excited to see the grounds.

“Perhaps we’ll run into your attendants while we’re out,” Hoseok muses, following Prince Changkyun to his bedroom door.

“Yes,” Changkyun hums quietly. “Perhaps we will.”

There’s something in his tone of voice that tells Hoseok he doubts what he’s saying.

* * *

It’s nearing dinner, and Changkyun is starting to get frustrated.

His stroll around the gardens with Hyunwoo and Hoseok had been pleasant, to say the least. He’d needed to be under the moon’s rays of light and its gentle glow had given him some much needed energy. It’s winter, and the nights are getting too cold to be outside, so there hadn’t been much to see in the gardens, but Jimin and Taehyung are seasonal experts and they have a grove of pear and pomegranate trees specifically for the winter season, and it had been a nice change of pace to aimlessly wander among the fruit and chat idly with his guards.

He’d thought about mentioning his plans to leave the next night several times. But the plan isn’t quite perfected—and his speech isn’t done yet. His left hand is his writing hand, and it’s hard for him to write with such a nasty cut along his palm. Before, he could sit and write for hours without cramping or otherwise needing to take a break—he loves to write, and he writes anything from poetry to lyrics—but with the gauze and the cut that doesn’t seem to want to heal, he can barely hold a pen for an hour. He’s not used to it, and every time pain shoots through his palm, he has to swallow fury.

But right now, he’s not upset about the cut or the fact that he hasn’t managed to ask either guard if they’ll come with him to Haegye. He’s upset because all night, he hasn’t seen any of his attendants. None of them. Not even once.

He’d tried summoning them, but that hadn’t worked, and now he’s beginning to get irritated. He’s gotten used to their company and their friendship. Why would they just... suddenly disappear?

Of course, the most obvious reason is his father. His father is unpredictable, and really, Minhyuk and Kihyun and Hyungwon are risking their lives working for him. Changkyun thinks about it more often than he should.

But maybe Kihyun and Hyungwon and Minhyuk didn’t turn up throughout the night because they’re not in the castle anymore. Maybe they’ve quit. Maybe they’ve left him. Maybe they’ve left him to rot in the palace, alone once again.

His thoughts continue to spiral. By sunrise, he’s more nervous than angry, and decides he’s had enough. He’s been sitting at his desk for the past hour, trying to finish the blasted speech—but he’s distracted, less by the pain in his hand and more by the idea that something has happened to his friends—or worse, that his attendants have decided they’ve had enough of him, enough of living in the palace, enough of everything.

But they’ve told him before, they care very much about him. His friends wouldn’t just... leave him, would they? They care about him, and he’s trusted them. Why would they just... not show up? They wouldn’t, right?

He’s starting to shake a little. His pulse begins to race. They couldn’t just leave. He’d _trusted_ them.

He stands up abruptly, and Hyunwoo and Hoseok glance at him in shock. 

“Prince Changkyun?” Hoseok asks. “Are you all right?”

“Come on,” Changkyun grits out. “We’re going to find them.”

They follow him without argument or complaint, and they’re halfway down the stairs when Hyunwoo asks, “Where are you going, Your Grace?”

“The kitchens,” Changkyun responds brusquely. He doesn’t like going to the kitchens—it’s one of two places in the entire palace that the servant staff has their privacy, and he doesn’t like imposing on that privacy. But he’s not going to go through the entire castle, top to bottom, if he doesn’t have to. It’s his hope that at least someone will know where his friends are.

Changkyun’s nerves climb as they get closer to the kitchens, but he can’t tell why exactly he’s so angry. He might be angry with his father, might be angry with the situation, might be angry with his attendants themselves—he doesn’t want to believe it, but there’s a voice in the back of his mind, an annoying thought. He’s more scared than anything. They _can’t_ leave him. 

“The Prince approaches!” Hoseok calls, and as Changkyun walks closer to the doors of the kitchens, he hears the scrambling of people inside moving around quickly.

Hoseok and Hyunwoo push the doors open and Changkyun storms through the doors into the kitchens. There’s not a lot of staff in the kitchens, but almost like a tidal wave, everyone inside drops to their knees at once. He sweeps his gaze around them, but all he can see are the tops of their heads. He doesn’t see Kihyun’s glossy brown hair. He doesn’t see Hyungwon’s long black locks. He doesn’t see Minhyuk’s peachy head.

His fists clench. “Stand up.”

They do, but they all seem almost terrified of him; once he slinks back into his chair at the table, Jungkook keeps his gaze on the floor, and Taehyung and Jimin have their attention solely on the fruits in the basket on the counter, next to where Kyungsoo is cooking something that smells delicious. His eyes are trained on whatever is sizzling in the pot on the stove. 

Seokjin is the only one who seems to be able to look him in the face. Something in his chest hurts at the realization, but in that moment, he’s too angry to think about anything else.

“Prince Changkyun,” He greets uneasily. “We weren’t expecting you.”

He folds his arms. “Where are my attendants?”

Seokjin blinks. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness?”

“Minhyuk, and Kihyun, and Hyungwon,” Changkyun bites out, trying to maintain composure despite how his heart is racing. “Where are they?”

Seokjin pauses, his expression blank, like he’s coming to some realization. Changkyun glances at Jungkook, but Jungkook is looking anywhere but at Changkyun.

“I..” Seokjin starts, then swallows. “I was under the impression you knew already.”

“Knew what?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to be very angry when I tell you,” Seokjin says weakly. 

“Tell me _what?_ ” He growls.

“They’re in the dungeons, Your Grace. King Byungwook had them arrested yesterday morning.”

Changkyun’s temper snaps.

* * *

“Your immorality and lack of regard for the law and the truth continues to surprise me, Father.”

Changkyun can barely stop himself from shouting once he finds his father in one of the boudoirs near the great hall. Namjoon is there, and he takes a full step back when Changkyun storms into the room like a raging bull. But to Changkyun’s fury, his father barely bats an eyelash at his anger.

“You just _know_ that sometimes I am in moods other than absolutely miserable and you do everything in your power to squash it like a bug,” Changkyun seethes. 

“Is this about your attendants?” Byungwook sighs, uninterested.

“They’ve done nothing to deserve imprisonment,” Changkyun snarls. “I demand that you let them out.”

Byungwook glances up at him. His eyes glimmer in warning. “You _demand_ it, hm? Why? Would you rather I let them out and then kill them?”

“No!”

His shout is loud, and it rings around the entire room, surprising even himself. Namjoon is white in the face, desperately trying to blend in with the wall, and Changkyun can feel Hoseok and Hyunwoo’s horrified gazes boring into him, but in that moment he’s so angry and panicked he’s seeing red.

“Father, please,” He whispers. “Let them out. Don’t touch them. I’m begging you.”

“Why do you care so much?” Byungwook’s face twists into a scowl. “Who are they to you? They’re just servants.”

“They’re my friends,” Changkyun dares to utter. Byungwook rolls his eyes.

“As if you could make friends. They’re _common people_ ,” He snaps. “The youngest one is from the poorest city in the kingdom. He probably used to bathe in black water. How can they possibly be your friends?”

“They care about me,” Changkyun growls, bristling at the insult his father had directed at Hyungwon. “Unlike you.”

“It’s clear you care about them, too,” Byungwook stands up fully and Changkyun tries not to recoil from him. 

Standing at almost six-foot-three, Byungwook towers over Changkyun. Changkyun is truly afraid of his father, and any night he doesn't have to see his father or interact with him is a good night. His father has taught him to fear confrontation. But right now, he’s too scared of losing the three people who have become so important to him. He hadn’t even realized how close he is to them until suddenly it became apparent that their lives are in danger.

“I _do_ care about them,” Changkyun says boldly.

“And what are you going to do to keep them?”

Changkyun pauses, clenching and unclenching his fists. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he gets down onto his knees and presses his forehead to the floor. 

He hears Namjoon exhale in shock, but the room is otherwise silent. He’s never, _ever_ bowed to his father before. He’s never had enough respect for him to bow to him. But now, he’s willing to do what it takes.

“You’d throw away your pride to keep them at your side?” Byungwook sounds terribly incredulous. “You ungrateful brat; you are _royalty_. And here you are, on your knees to save _commoners_. You’ve never kept a team of attendants for longer than two decades since you were fifty years old.”

“I want them to stay,” Changkyun pleads.

He hears Byungwook sneer in disgust and for a second, Changkyun is afraid he’s going to get kicked—but then his footsteps move away.

“Get up,” Byungwook grits out, and Changkyun stands, sighing a little as the blood that had rushed to his head relieves its pressure. 

His father is facing away from him. His attention is on something else entirely. 

Changkyun realizes something fundamental in that moment. 

Byungwook absolutely couldn't care less about Changkyun’s attendants. He only imprisoned them because they have begun to mean something to Changkyun. He isn’t going to free the attendants because they’re innocent, or simply out of the goodness of his heart.

“If you kill my attendants, I will tell everyone,” Changkyun threatens. “I will tell the entire kingdom. The people in Tansu hate your guts, father, and so do many other citizens in this kingdom. If you kill my attendants, I will tell everyone, and it will be the end of you. Everyone who doesn’t know how much of a monster you are needs to know.”

With the threat, he’s marched into uncharted territory now. He’s never been brave enough to try his own hand at Byungwook's immoral tactics. 

Byungwook pauses for a second, and for a moment, Changkyun is worried he’s going to shrug him off again. But he suddenly turns his head to glare icily at Changkyun, and if he didn’t have his attention before, Changkyun knows he’s got his father’s attention now. Byungwook’s gaze is piercing and violent and it makes Changkyun sweat, but he swallows and holds his ground.

“Why wouldn’t I kill you with them, then?” Byungwook taunts.

“Because we are the last two Lims left,” Changkyun shoots back. “And you’ve always stressed the necessity of the Lim bloodline on the throne. And if you kill me, the people will kill you, too. Your reputation is bad, father. Very bad. Consider your options, and choose wisely.”

Changkyun is surprised with himself. He’s spent years and years watching his father’s unethical decisions and actions, and trying his best to figure out how to be better than him. But what else can he do when the lives of people he loves are on the line?

Byungwook’s turns to face him fully, and his eyes flash in rage. He’s started to breathe like a wild animal, and Changkyun braces himself for violence, shutting his eyes. 

He prepares himself for a hit or a kick, but it never comes. 

“They’re your problem now,” Byungwook snaps. “I will not pay them. Not any longer. I want nothing to do with them. If you want them, you keep them. If I see them again, you don’t want to know what I’ll do.”

Changkyun bites his lip, still hesitant to allow himself relax. What does he mean by that? Changkyun doesn’t know whether to be relieved or continue being furious. He mentally weighs his options; he’s managed to get Byungwook to let his friends go, but at what cost? He won’t pay them anymore. What’s going to convince them to stay?

As if sensing his internal conflict, Byungwook spits at him.

“Get out of my sight,” He says, gnashing his fangs menacingly.

Changkyun doesn’t hesitate to turn tail and leave.

* * *

Hoseok and Hyunwoo have to run to keep up with Prince Changkyun as he storms away from the boudoir they’d found his father in. Hoseok’s mind is reeling. He feels as though he’s in shock.

He’d known that nothing Changkyun could say would convince the King to keep the attendants alive. But then Changkyun had threatened his father with the idea of a peasant uprising, and it had shut the King down almost instantly. Hoseok wonders if that means the King is just now realizing how much the kingdom’s citizens really do hate him.

Hoseok’s family is comfortable. Not extremely upper class, but definitely not lower class, either. Hoseok—and by extension, his family—had never had a reason to outright hate the King because his classist mindset had never affected him. Hyunwoo certainly wouldn’t have a reason to despise King Byungwook, either. Growing up, he’d been shielded from the sick actions of the King and now that he’s older and working within the palace, he just can’t believe he’d been so blind to the King’s discriminatory behavior. It makes him sick to his stomach to think that a person like this is in control of the Kingdom. His words are foul and terrible, and yet, they are law.

Prince Changkyun leads them to the dungeons and Hoseok can feel anger rolling off of him in waves. He hopes to God that the attendants haven’t been harmed. He doesn’t know what Prince Changkyun will do if they’ve been touched, and he’s not yet willing to admit his own concern for their well-being just yet.

Prince Changkyun slams the dungeon doors open before Hyunwoo and Hoseok have a chance to do it for him, and they go down a dark hallway that spills into a crumbling stone staircase which eventually leads into a rotting room with six cells, three on each opposite wall. There’s a door at the far end of the room. Three of the cells are empty, but the other three are occupied. 

All three attendants stand up and move towards the bars of their cells in shock. Hoseok can’t hardly see them, but he can tell Kihyun’s eyes are wide, given by how the weak candlelight makes them glimmer.

Changkyun stares at his attendants and they stare back, and then a hunched figure hurries out of the room at the far end of the dungeons. Hoseok can barely see the man’s face, but he seems horrified by the Prince’s presence.

“Prince Changkyun,” the man rasps by way of greeting. His tone of voice is nothing less than terrified.

“Let them out,” Prince Changkyun demands.

“B-But I—”

“I said, let them out!” he bellows. The hooded man practically jumps out of his skin at the Prince’s yell, but he rushes to comply, and unlocks each cell one by one. 

Hoseok sucks in a breath when the three attendants step into the light. They’re all filthy and look exhausted and hungry, but they’re watching Prince Changkyun like he’s their savior. Hoseok can’t take his eyes off of Kihyun—his hair is tousled and messy, like he’s run his hands through it too many times, and four of his fingers are bleeding at the cuticles. His nails have been bitten down to the quick and the rings under his eyes are highlighted by the orange candlelight. It’s a sight that makes Hoseok’s chest hurt, but aside from their ragged appearances, they all seem to be unharmed.

“Go,” Prince Changkyun snaps at the dungeon keeper, and the little man squeaks before vanishing back into his room. Prince Changkyun turns back to his attendants, and his expression softens instantly. “Did he hurt you? Did _anyone_ hurt you?”

It takes a second for any of them to answer, but eventually Minhyuk shakes his head.

“No, Prince Changkyun,” He mumbles. He sounds exhausted. 

Changkyun’s expression and body relax at Minhyuk’s reassurance. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll have Kyungsoo cook something for you. Take however long you need. Once you’re done, come to my room. We’ll talk about this after you’re decent.”

Kihyun and Hyungwon keep staring at him, but at least Minhyuk manages to muster a grateful, watery smile.

* * *

Prince Changkyun paces a hole in the floor of his bedroom as he waits for the attendants to return, but Hoseok has to give them credit—within forty-five minutes of Prince Changkyun stopping by the kitchens to ask Kyungsoo to fix them something, they all show up at the Prince’s room. They’re clean and look more like themselves, to Hoseok’s relief—Hyungwon, who is usually harder for Hoseok to read, is smiling, even, as if he’s relieved to see the Prince again. 

Hoseok’s gaze lingers on Kihyun for a second. His brown hair had been lank and dirty when he’d seen him in the dungeons, and now it has its usual shine and volume. His fingers are no longer bleeding, but the ones that were bloody are bandaged. Hoseok doesn’t want to imagine what the day must have been like for them in the dungeons.

Prince Changkyun looks them all over for a moment, and then his expression turns wistful.

“I am... so sorry,” He says sincerely. “I am so sorry it took me almost a whole night to find out you’d been imprisoned. I... I beg for your forgiveness.”

He seems to be at a loss for words now that the attendants are finally here, and he paces anxiously.

“Prince Changkyun, we don’t blame you,” Minhyuk says gently. Hyungwon and Kihyun nod in agreement. 

The Prince pauses, watching them for a moment. Then he sighs.

“How much is he paying you?” Prince Changkyun asks.

It’s Kihyun who answers him, but not before blinking in confusion. “Beg your pardon, Your Grace?”

“My father. How much are you being paid to work here?” 

Kihyun hesitates before answering. “Five hundred bits a month, Your Grace.”

Hoseok’s chest constricts, and he glances at Hyunwoo. His face is blank, but his eyes are brightened a little in surprise. The attendants are making less than they are.

Prince Changkyun looks just as surprised as Hoseok is. “That’s… that’s it?”

Kihyun nods. “It’s enough, Your Grace.”

“No, it isn’t,” Prince Changkyun shakes his head. “It’s not enough.”

He takes another deep breath. The room seems to hold its own breath as they wait for him to say something.

“Technically, you’ve all been fired,” Changkyun says grimly. Hoseok watches all three of their faces fall. “But you don’t have to leave unless you want to. And.. if you want to, I don’t blame you.”

The attendants stay quiet, as if they’re each formulating their own responses.

“If you want to stay, I’ll pay you from my own pocket, and I’ll pay you more than five hundred bits per month. That’s just… ridiculous,” Prince Changkyun runs a hand through his hair. “But you must understand that your lives are at risk here. You’re not palace employees anymore. You’re _my_ employees. That’s why I’m giving you a choice.”

“I’m only puzzled as to how we’ve gotten to this situation,” Hyungwon says, his voice small. “We haven’t... we haven’t done anything wrong.”

“No, of course you haven’t. But my father doesn’t like you, and his word is law,” Changkyun says tiredly. “I... honestly think it is safer for you to... to leave.”

“I want to stay,” Minhyuk says boldly.

“I do, as well,” Hyungwon agrees, and Kihyun nods resolutely in accordance.

Prince Changkyun looks on the verge of tears with frustration. “But why? Why would you stay, given what I’ve just told you?”

“This job has become more important to me than I think you realize, Your Grace,” Kihyun says calmly. “I can’t speak for the other two, but—”

“No, no. No, I can’t—” Changkyun cuts himself off with a deep breath. “It’s not _safe_ for you here anymore. Don’t you see? Your _lives_ are at _risk_ here. If you’re going to stay and work, you.. You can’t come with me to Haegye.”

Hoseok feels his stomach drop in shock. He’s going to go to _Haegye?_

“Wait, Prince Changkyun—”

“But we—”

“We could—”

“No! No,” Changkyun cries, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “You can’t. Don’t you understand? You three are on your last strike, even though you’ve done nothing that he is aware of. He’s not even going to _pay_ you any longer. _I_ have to pay you. _I_ am not the one who fires my attendants; eventually they all decide they’re tired of their lives being threatened just because they attend to me. They leave because they can’t deal with the stress of knowing my father could have them killed any day. I will do absolutely everything I can to keep you here if you’re willing to stay, but you have to _cooperate_ with me or else you _will die._ You _cannot_ come with us. You... you have to _stay here._ ”

Minhyuk seems distraught at the idea, but Hoseok’s mind is reeling, trying to keep up with what’s happening. Since when is the Prince going to go to Haegye? Why would he want to go?

“Are you going to go by yourself?” Kihyun hisses. “Alone, to Haegye?”

“If I have to, yes, I will,” Changkyun breathes raggedly. 

“But why? You’ve said so yourself, Prince Changkyun, it’s dangerous to go against your father,” Kihyun begs. “Why do you have to leave?”

“Because if I don’t, I will certainly go mad.”

The attendants don’t seem to have an argument for this, and Hoseok thinks it’s probably wise for them to be quiet even if they did—Prince Changkyun seems ready to burst into tears, and it’s not something Hoseok wants to see. He’s tired of being a bystander, a silent onlooker, as Changkyun and his attendants do things like plan secret trips to the Kingdom’s cities. 

“If I go to Haegye, you three will have to stay here,” Changkyun says after taking a deep breath. His voice is shaky, but he sounds more even than he had a moment ago. “And I know that that is something you find upsetting. But please... allow me to be selfish. I... at the idea of losing the three of you, I nearly lost my mind. I won’t demand that you stay if you don’t wish to, but... I cannot lose you three.”

Hoseok feels out of place, like he’s watching a moment that should be private. He shifts his gaze to the floor before he can see any of the attendants react to Prince Changkyun’s plea. 

“I will stay,” Minhyuk’s reply is quiet.

“I will as well.”

“Me, too.”

Hoseok is sure he hears Changkyun exhale in relief, and tries to pretend he’s not relieved as well.

“Thank you,” Prince Changkyun whispers. Hoseok’s not sure if they were meant to hear it. 

There’s a short pause. Then the Prince clears his throat.

“Please take the morning off,” He says. “Please sleep. I’ll talk to you all in the evening.”

“Would you like dinner, Prince Changkyun?” Hyungwon asks softly.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Very well. Sleep well, Your Grace.”

“You as well.”

And they leave.

Hoseok stands still, waiting to be told to do something. It’s so silent, Hoseok can hear their footsteps in the hallway fade with every step they take further from the room.

“Can I ask you both something?” Changkyun says, as soon as the footsteps are no longer audible.

“Of course, Prince Changkyun,” Hyunwoo murmurs. 

Changkyun looks at both of them, and his eyes are full of sorrow and pain. But Hoseok can also see white hot anger swirling within the stars in his eyes, and he realizes it’s much easier to read Changkyun when he looks at his eyes.

“If I asked you to leave the palace with me, to go to another city, what would you say?” Prince Changkyun asks boldly.

All at once, understanding dawns on Hoseok. He and Hyunwoo share a look and Hoseok sees sympathy in Hyunwoo’s narrow eyes. They come to an unspoken agreement.

“We would say,” Hyunwoo begins slowly, “where are we going?”

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The ninth of November. 1889._

They leave the castle not even twelve hours later, in a carriage bound for Haegye. Following their conversation, Hoseok and Hyunwoo had been given an hour to pack a satchel while Prince Changkyun secured a private, secret carriage and made Seokjin and Yoongi aware of their departure. Hoseok had contemplated sending a letter to his family to at least make his mother aware of their trip, but any letter he sent wouldn’t get there faster than them, especially in the carriage. Hoseok and Hyunwoo, with packed bags, had gone back to the Prince’s room to find the Prince explaining to his attendants that in order to minimize suspicion, they should carry on with their tasks, such as bringing food and blood to his room at the designated times and doing laundry regularly. It had been hard to miss the reluctance in Prince Changkyun’s tone of voice, and the sadness in each of the attendants’ eyes.

In all honesty, though, Hoseok agrees with the Prince. It’s safer overall if the attendants stay in the castle. It’s the most logical solution.

The carriage they’re given is simple, colored in accordance to the royal coat of arms, and drawn by two of the stable’s horses. The interior is ornate, with beautiful designs carved into the wood. The cushions are white satin and they’re the most comfortable seats Hoseok has ever sat on in his life. The curtains on each window are black velvet, fully blocking the stinging sunlight, and a small, round table is set up in the center of the carriage. A single candelabra with three unused wicks is bolted to the table. The curtains are heavy enough that they block any and all light from coming into the carriage, and Hoseok briefly wonders how they’re going to see when night falls, but Seokjin lights each wick on the candelabra on the little wooden table and bows deeply to Prince Changkyun before smiling tightly and shutting the door. 

The sun is setting when they leave the palace’s gates, bathing the sky in beautiful pinks and oranges in the west and a lovely indigo to the east. The only one who had been allowed to see them off was Seokjin, and Hoseok watches through a small gap in the black drapes as he hurries back into the castle as soon as the carriage exits through the gates, eager to escape the golden sun.

Hoseok had not been escorted to Sarisong after being selected to fulfill the job of the Prince’s guard; instead, he’d had to get to Sarisong by himself. He’d taken one of the family horses and had arrived at the city nearly four nights after he’d left his home in Haegye. He’s never even been in a carriage before, let alone one of this extravagance. 

The ground is loud under the horse’s hooves and the wheels of the carriage and every little bump seems to shake the entire vehicle. The Prince, wearing his reading glasses, has a small stack of papers spread out on the table before him, and he’s already fully invested in whatever’s written on them. 

Hoseok watches him warily. He still doesn’t know what they’re doing, going to Haegye, and he’s extremely aware of the fact that he’s absolutely committing a crime by accompanying the Prince to the city. He’d been given one job, issued by the King himself—don’t let the Prince leave the castle.

And here he is, sitting across from the very same Prince, in a royal carriage on the way to a city almost four nights away.

Hoseok glances at Hyunwoo. He can’t quite read the older’s expression, but his stiff, squared shoulders and straight back tell Hoseok he can’t quite believe what’s happening, either. 

Hoseok turns his attention to the papers on the table. The candlelight causes a glare so that he can’t read most of what’s written, but even if the glare wasn’t there, Hoseok doubts he’d be able to read it—the Prince’s handwriting is almost chicken scratch even when Hoseok isn’t trying to read upside down.

The Prince sits up suddenly. “I suppose you two would like an answer as to why we’re on our way to Haegye,” He says, gazing at both of them. “I’ve written a speech. I want to deliver it to the people of Haegye.”

A lot of thoughts and questions immediately come to mind. But Hoseok nods calmly, holding his tongue.

Hyunwoo doesn’t say anything either. Prince Changkyun pauses, looking at both of them with a calculating gaze, then clicks his tongue.

“You’re allowed to ask questions,” He says.

“What is the speech for, Your Grace?” Hoseok asks at the same time as Hyunwoo questions, “Why all the way to Haegye?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Haegye and I’ve forgotten how the people there live. Haegye is a city that is lower in population, compared to other cities. It’s my hope that a lower population of people who are, as my father so kindly put it once, ‘unproblematic,’ there’s a less likely chance that my father’s supporters and spies will be there.”

He shoots a meaningful glance at Hoseok, but Hoseok can’t confirm or deny that. He’d been shielded from the King’s unethical behavior his entire life. He doesn’t know whether or not there are spies in Haegye, but it certainly wouldn’t surprise him if there was.

“It’s also my understanding most citizens in Haegye are comfortable, in comparison to other, poorer cities in this Kingdom, but I want to deliver the speech to let them know I’m going to make change.”

“Going to… make change?” Hoseok inquires, curiosity piqued. He shares an intrigued glance with Hyunwoo. “Make change in what way, Your Grace?”

Changkyun wordlessly pushes the papers across the little table towards Hoseok. Hoseok gingerly picks the papers up, skimming what’s written on it. He struggles a little—the Prince’s handwriting isn’t great—but he mostly gets the gist of what he wants to do.

“Your Grace,” Hoseok bites his lip anxiously. “I... is this really a safe thing to do?”

“Of course not,” Prince Changkyun says solemnly. “But what else can I do? I cannot continue to feel powerless in my castle. I’m running out of time. Things are going to get worse.”

 _Get worse? How?_ Hoseok doesn’t have any idea what the Prince is talking about, but he sounds so serious and somber Hoseok feels he has no choice but to trust him.

“Read the whole thing,” Changkyun orders. “You’re from Haegye. If you were in the audience listening to me speak, what would you think?”

Hoseok does so. He reads the whole speech—it’s not very long, and it appeals more emotionally to the people than Hoseok thought it would. It doesn’t include a lot of whatever Prince Changkyun’s future plans are, which is probably smart—the King is absolutely unpredictable, and in Hoseok’s opinion, the best thing Prince Changkyun can do for himself is do what he can to minimize punishments.

Hoseok is incredibly uneasy, though. The idea of giving a speech seems dangerous and uncharacteristically reckless of the Prince. Perhaps he can convince the Prince to do something else. Everything he wants to do will be drawn back to him. Hoseok needs to think of something that will blur the trail.

“Do you think it will appeal to the people?” Changkyun asks, rather timidly. “I... it’s been so long since I’ve been to Haegye. I don’t know how the people live there.”

“I think the idea of change will be appealing to most, Your Grace,” Hoseok answers honestly. “As someone from Haegye, I think hearing these words from your lips would give me hope.”

“Is hope enough, though?” 

“Hope is all you can accomplish right now, Prince Changkyun.” Hyunwoo reminds him gently. “You must protect yourself, as well. If for no other reason than if anything happens to you, you’ll have gotten the peoples’ hopes up for nothing.”

Prince Changkyun nods slowly.

“I don’t know what it is you wish to accomplish, but it will take time,” Hyunwoo continues. 

Prince Changkyun seems to wish to leave it at that. He holds his hands out for the speech and Hoseok hands it back to him, and watches as he gingerly places the papers back in his satchel. He forages around the contents of his bag for a moment, then produces a deck of cards held together by a dark purple ribbon. His lips quirk up in a small smile as he glances over the rim of his glasses to look at his guards.

“Do either of you know how to play Godori?”

* * *

_Haegye. The tenth of November. 1889._

The moon is setting when the carriage finally reaches Haegye and honestly, even though he’s exhausted from the travel, he’s incredibly impressed with how quick the trip had been. His journey to the Kingdom’s capital had taken four nights, and in the carriage, it had taken only a little under two. Granted, they didn’t stop even when the entire kingdom was sleeping during the day, and as he and Hyunwoo unload the carriage once they arrive at a hotel, he sees Prince Changkyun pay the driver of their carriage a little extra than was promised.

The hotel they’d come across is quaint, and small. There’s quite a lot of vacancy, but Hoseok knows that’s only because it’s not traveling season. During the summer when the nights are warmer, the level of visitation to Haegye skyrockets. Haegye is a trading center, known for fertile soil, and the citizens who have managed to make permanent homes in Haegye are few. He’s lucky his family is included in that small majority; business comes and goes. He’s lucky his family has managed to make a living and stay where they are.

Hyunwoo is the one to request a room for a day and a night and they’re lucky enough to get the one room in the small hotel that has three beds and not two. The room they’re given is on the smaller side, with three single beds, a small desk, and an adjacent washroom. Unlike in the castle, there’s no running tap or plumbing, and the only lighting they have is a few candles that have already been burned halfway.

He’s absolutely worn out by the long trip and Hyunwoo seems to be as well. They both wait to be told to do something as the Prince places his satchel on the bed he’s claimed—the one closest to the window on the far wall—and lights the candle on the bedside table next to the creaky bed.

“You can relax now,” Prince Changkyun says easily, stretching a little. “We’re not going anywhere tonight.”

They thank him quietly. Hyunwoo picks the bed closer to Prince Changkyun’s, leaving Hoseok with the one on the right wall, a few paces away from the bathroom door. He places his belongings on the bed with a slight sigh, running his hands over the soft mattress and quilt.

He glances over at Prince Changkyun, who has pulled out a book, the speech, and a pen, and is making his way over to the desk. He watches the Prince light the candles on either side of the desk and then pull the curtains above the desk closed, then sit down with a sigh.

Hoseok still doesn’t think this is the best idea. The more he thinks about it, the more concerned he becomes for the Prince’s safety. He has full faith that the Prince is clever and determined, but this idea just seems… reckless. Stupid.

He wonders if he should say anything. He wants to—he _really_ wants to—but he’s worked so hard to gain the trust he already has with the Prince, and he knows that trying to stop him from giving his speech is going to upset their relationship. Even if he lays his full argument out on the table and is as logical as he can be, he knows Changkyun is going to be upset.

He could try to pull the “I work for your father” card, but that would permanently destroy his relationship with the Prince. And that’s the exact opposite of what he wants, especially now that he’s worried for the Prince’s life.

“If you two would like to go out somewhere, you may,” Prince Changkyun says suddenly, pulling Hoseok from his thoughts. The Prince is bent over the papers again, his hand moving quickly across the page. “I appreciate your patience with me over the journey. If you’d like to go get a drink, I’ll allow it.”

Hoseok meets Hyunwoo’s eyes across the room. A drink sounds great at the moment. 

“Would you... like to come with us, Your Grace?” Hoseok asks before he knows what he’s doing.

The Prince’s hand stops moving briefly. He pauses, seemingly in consideration, and then resumes writing.

“I shouldn’t,” He says softly.

“Even Princes need a break every once in a while, no?” Hyunwoo says with a small smile.

The Prince puts his pen down with a sigh, then stands up and turns to face them. “All right. Just one drink.”

After changing out of the clothes they traveled in, they leave the hotel as the moon disappears and the sun peeks shyly over the horizon. It doesn’t take them long to find a bar still open, especially not in the winter, when the nights are longer than the days, and after ducking inside, they’re seated at a small table.

“How can I help you three tonight?” A lovely waitress with long black hair and catty eyes croons sweetly. “Any wine or liquor?”

“What French blood wines do you have?” Prince Changkyun asks casually.

The waitress raises her thin eyebrows, and her red lips quirk into a half smile. “Classy, hm?”

“French wines are the best,” Changkyun says with a sly smile, his fangs poking over his bottom lip. 

Hoseok is impressed. It suddenly becomes clear to him that despite the King’s attempts to keep him like a flower bud in a cave, unable to bloom in the darkness, Changkyun has already begun to blossom.

“Our bar’s prized possession is a bottle from Château Lafite Rothschild,” The waitress purrs. “Distilled with lion blood. I’ll get you three glasses for the right price.”

Noiselessly, Prince Changkyun places three gold coins on the table. The woman’s lips twist into a pleased smile.

“Three glasses of blood Château Lafite, coming up,” She says, swiping up the money. She turns and strides away, and Hoseok looks at the Prince in surprise.

“Château Lafite, hm?” Hyunwoo says.

“You’ll never want to have anything else after you try it,” Prince Changkyun replies, slipping the small coin bag back into the pocket of his cloak.

“The most expensive drink I’ve ever had was a blood cheongju,” Hoseok muses. Prince Changkyun nods, humming, and glances at Hyunwoo expectantly.

“Kangjun Noir,” Hyunwoo answers the unspoken question with ease. “Best blood wine I’ve ever tasted.”

“Mm, indeed,” Prince Changkyun says, sitting back in his seat. “I prefer Kangjun Noir over most wines.”

“It certainly is our Kingdom’s prized product,” Hoseok says.

He’s never had Kangjun Noir before, but everyone knows how wonderful it is even if they haven’t tried it. The Vampire Kingdom is definitely known for their wines, and while most blood wines are not created to be consumed by other Supernatural creatures, there’s nowhere else anyone can get a bottle of true, authentic Kangjun Noir. Different wines have different blood concentrations, and because a Vampire's digestive tract is designed specifically for the consumption of blood, other Supernaturals can only consume so much of the wine, facing the risk of making themselves ill. Regardless, some upper-class Supernaturals from other kingdoms travel to Kangjun just to explore the wineries. Wine is a staple part of Vampiric culture.

“It is... interesting to discuss this with you,” Prince Changkyun ponders aloud.

“How do you mean, Your Grace?”

“My attendants have never had anything so expensive. I don’t think Hyungwon has ever had soju before,” Prince Changkyun murmurs.

“Soju isn’t particularly hard to come by in any part of this Kingdom, I thought?” Hoseok says hesitantly, hoping he’s not wrong.

“No. I believe Hyungwon simply has an aversion to alcohol,” Prince Changkyun considers. 

The waitress returns with three little cups and a tall bottle of blood red wine, and places everything gently on the table. She pours the wine into the three cups—they’re makgeolli cups, not wine glasses, which surprises Hoseok—and with a final catty smile, she walks away.

“Cheers,” Hoseok grins, holding his cup up. Hyunwoo smiles back, and the three of them clink their cups together before Hoseok sips from his cup.

The bitter, yet slightly sweet, fruity taste coats Hoseok’s tongue, leaving his taste buds prickling, and the blood in the wine burns a little going down. The spike of blood within the alcohol is just enough to give him a small burst of energy despite the waning hour. He hums in pleasure. He’s never tasted anything so delicious.

Hyunwoo has a similarly dazed expression on his face when he puts the cup down, and Prince Changkyun cracks a rare smile at their reactions.

“Good, hm?” He asks. His fangs, slightly bloody, curl over his lip.

“Amazing,” Hoseok breathes. His tongue feels like fuzz. Hyunwoo nods in agreement, humming.

He’s surprised by himself when he finds himself wishing the Prince’s attendants had come with them. Minhyuk, at least, is good company. And they know the Prince better than he and Hyunwoo do. 

He voices this aloud to Hyunwoo and the Prince. Prince Changkyun’s smile widens a little, and Hyunwoo laughs.

“I thought you’d prefer to be away from them,” Prince Changkyun says.

“They aren’t Hoseok’s favorite people,” Hyunwoo chuckles. “Especially Kihyun-ssi.”

“I don’t hate Kihyun,” Hoseok counters coolly. And it’s true; he doesn’t hate the short attendant. He simply finds him irritating, most of the time. He would never admit it if the circumstances were different, but the exquisite wine has lessened the effectiveness of his brain-to-mouth filter.

“I don’t hate any of them. I... understand why Kihyun is resentful of me, though. What I said that night was out of line. I hadn't expected him to hold a grudge so long.”

Changkyun nods thoughtfully. “That makes two of us,” He says.

“Minhyuk approached us about it a week or so after it happened,” Hyunwoo sighs. “He told us that Kihyun isn’t someone we want to make an enemy out of.”

Prince Changkyun regards him for a moment, eyebrows raised. “He’s right, I suppose. I’d prefer it if all five of you started to get along.”

It’s not an unfair request, really, Hoseok thinks. Maybe he should try to be kinder to the attendants. After all, they’re all on the same side—Prince Changkyun’s side.

* * *

_Haegye. The eleventh of November. 1889._

Hyunwoo and Hoseok both wake up before the Prince does the evening of his speech. They don’t speak much, wary of waking the Prince, and get ready silently, working easily around each other.

The more Hoseok thinks about the events of the night, the more concerned he feels for the Prince’s safety. He can’t confirm whether or not the King has spies in the city. Hell, he’s not even sure what the Prince’s plan is—is he going to go to the city hall and demand to speak to someone?

Hoseok is nervous. He doesn’t want to witness the Prince be punished by his father again. There’s so many ways this could go wrong.

“I don’t think we should let him do this,” He murmurs, thinking aloud.

Hyunwoo glances at him in surprise. “I’m incredibly relieved to hear you say that. I’ve been thinking the same thing since we arrived.”

“This is dangerous,” Hoseok continues, shaking his head. “I.. there are so many opportunities for this to go awry. If we’re caught… you and I will be punished and there’s no telling what will happen to the Prince.”

“You’re right,” Hyunwoo says quietly. “This is a risk we cannot be willing to take. Yesterday morning, at the bar, I..”

Hoseok turns to him expectantly. 

“In the washroom, I heard two men talking,” Hyunwoo says slowly. Alarm bells go off in Hoseok’s head. “I’m not sure who they were or what they were doing, but they were speaking to each other about the Prince.”

“What did they say?” Hoseok whispers.

“I.. don’t remember, exactly. The wine, I think... messed with my head, a bit,” Hyunwoo replies a little sheepishly. “But I do recall them speaking about the Prince and how they have no idea what he could be doing. They said something to the effect of, ‘it’s been over sixty since anyone has seen the Crown Prince. Who knows what he could be up to?’”

Hoseok blinks. 

“My point is, the people are already suspicious of the Prince,” Hyunwoo says earnestly, turning to look Hoseok in the face. 

“This... changes a lot,” Hoseok says blankly, still processing. 

“It does,” Hyunwoo nods gravely in agreement. “I think the safest option is not allowing him to do the speech.”

“He will be angry,” Hoseok warns, but he fully agrees with Hyunwoo.

“He will,” Hyunwoo nods again. “But ultimately, I think he will see we are right.”

The conversation ends at that, but Hoseok is glad they’ve come to a mutual agreement. He can’t always tell what Hyunwoo is thinking, and he’s relieved to know that Hyunwoo seems to care about the Prince the same way he does.

He’s dreading having to talk to the Prince about this. Hoseok knows Prince Changkyun won’t take this well.

And he doesn’t take it well. Hyunwoo gently wakes him up, and he gets dressed by himself, but Hoseok and Hyunwoo don’t give him a chance to further get ready for the day before they explain that they won’t let him do the speech. They stand by the door, watching the Prince warily. For a moment, the Prince just stares at them in shock, but then his stare turns angry and his fists clench.

“I should have known you’d do this.” Prince Changkyun growls. “I trusted you. How _dare_ you?”

Hoseok winces at the raw anger in his voice, but he steels himself and holds his ground, determined.

“We cannot allow you to go out there, Your Grace,” Hoseok says grimly. He feels terrible, he really does. But he has to protect the Prince. “It’s not safe. We’re supposed to protect you.”

“And here I was thinking you’d changed,” Changkyun snaps, eyes flashing. “Thinking you’re on my side.”

“We _are_ on your side, Prince Changkyun,” Hyunwoo says urgently. “That is why we can’t allow you to do this. This is not a good idea. If you go out there and deliver this speech, somehow it is going to get back to your father.”

“What do you suggest I do, then? We’re already here,” Changkyun hisses. “I _need_ the people to hear me. To know that I am here.”

“But if that information gets into the wrong hands, what will become of you?” Hoseok bites back, trying to retain patience. “I can’t guarantee that there are no people in this city who are sympathetic to your father. Even just the _slightest_ chance of someone on his side finding out what you’re doing is too much of a risk to take.”

Changkyun stares at them. His eyes are livid, but Hoseok watches as it’s slowly joined by something else—something he can’t quite place. He looks away, his chest heaving in a sigh. Hoseok is hesitant to let himself feel relieved. Prince Changkyun isn’t known for backing down and even if it looks like he might, Hoseok is still on edge.

“Why is it necessary to get the people on your side? Why do you feel the need to tell them you’re planning something?” Hoseok continues. Now that he’s gotten the Prince to be quiet and listen to them, he needs to explain everything he’s been thinking about.

“I can’t gain a following without them,” Changkyun says quietly. “Most people hate my father and by extension, they hate me, too. I have to help them. I’m telling you, my father is going to do bad things. He’s already doing bad things. The people are going to get angry and any revolt they may or may not decide to stage will include usurping me, as well. I’m on their side. I just need them to _know that._ ”

It makes sense, and Hoseok can’t come up with a reply. The Prince hasn’t exactly thought this through entirely, but his efforts and his cause are genuine. Prince Changkyun is so young, but Hoseok sees real pain in his eyes.

“Perhaps we can do this anonymously,” Hyunwoo suggests. “Send your speech as a letter to the governor of Haegye.”

“What does the governor of Haegye have to say about my father?” Prince Changkyun asks, folding his arms over his chest. 

“I know he disagrees with the King’s motives,” Hoseok pipes up, glad he can answer the Prince’s question with some degree of certainty. “Haegye isn’t very populous and we’re lucky that Governor Chwe is very altruistic. He and his son founded a few charities before he was selected by the people.”

“I’m quite surprised the King has not done away with that entirely,” Hyunwoo murmurs more to himself than anyone else, but Changkyun looks at him and nods. “His Majesty selected the governor of Kangjun years ago.”

“He will, eventually, do that everywhere else,” Changkyun says shortly. “If he realizes the people are electing governors who disagree with him, he _will_ start electing governors himself. This is just another reason we need to do something now.”

“Before we leave tomorrow, Your Grace, we can deliver your speech to the governor,” Hoseok says, redirecting the conversation to the original problem. “And we can plan to be gone before he has the chance to send a reply.”

Prince Changkyun stays silent. His gaze bores into the floor, eyes glazed over, lost in thought. Hoseok holds his breath through the pregnant silence.

Slowly, Prince Changkyun nods.

“All right,” He says softly. “Yes. We’ll do that. But you will not personally deliver the letter; you’ll plant it on someone who has access to the governor’s mail. Hoseok-ssi is right. We need to blur the trail so it’s not easily traced to me.”

Hoseok lets out a sigh of relief, and can’t help but smile at the Prince. Prince Changkyun looks taken aback by his grin, but he can’t stop himself.

“We must be careful, Your Grace,” Hyunwoo says quietly. “What we are doing is technically treason. We cannot afford to have this go wrong. Perhaps find a pseudonym to write under.”

“I don’t have an official signature or pseudonym,” Prince Changkyun refutes. “The people don’t know me.”

“Perhaps rewrite the letter so it doesn’t look like it is you writing it,” Hoseok suggests. 

“Are you suggesting a letter written in code?” The Prince tilts his head, narrowing his eyes.

Hoseok pauses. Then he nods. 

“It is a safer alternative,” Hyunwoo agrees.

Prince Changkyun nods. “I like it. I’ll have to wewrite the speech. I can’t simply send it as a letter. Find some parchment, will you? This will take a bit of time.”

Hoseok’s not able to keep the grin off his face as he and Hyunwoo scout the room for any kind of paper, and eventually Hyunwoo has to run down to the lobby to ask the desk manager for some parchment. They manage to get his speech rewritten to the format of a coded letter, and the Prince does it so skillfully that if Hoseok didn’t know better, he wouldn’t know the Prince had written it. And because he knows where the governor resides, Hoseok is tasked with planting the letter in the governor’s mailbox.

When they return to Sarisong, he and Hyunwoo feel as though they’ve gained more trust with the Prince. The attendants are welcoming, and concerned, as Hoseok had expected, and he notices Kihyun’s gaze lingering on him for just a second longer than Hyunwoo. He goes to bed feeling warm, and the tiny, uncharacteristic, grateful smile he receives from the Prince after they’re allowed to go back to their rooms to rest puts a smile on his face the entire rest of the day.

* * *

**To Governor Chwe, of the lovely city of Haegye,**

**Please, do not throw away this letter. Read it all. Do not reply to it, and I will send for you when necessary.**

**Nobody needs to know that I have written to you, and it has taken a great deal of time to plan this in a way that will keep myself and you as safe as possible. I cannot stress the importance of keeping this letter a secret.**

**I am so sorry it has taken me so long to realize that change will not come if something is not done to provoke it. I am so sorry for all you have suffered, and how your people have suffered, and how nobody has done anything to help you.**

**I do understand that you have no reason to trust this. You haven’t seen me in decades. You have every right to be wary, but please, believe me when I say that I am on your side. I humbly ask that you trust me. I am on your side. I am not my father.**

**Some decades ago, the Crown Prince Yuta of the Obake Kingdom came to visit. It was a grand affair, and I'm sure you remember his tour around our kingdom. When I met him, I was told to be stern and stiff and unwelcoming. Prince Yuta saw right through my facade, though, and he told me, “Ganbatte.”**

**‘Ganbatte’ is a Japanese term for ‘keep going.’ Endure it.**

**I encourage you, Governor Chwe, to do the same. Endure it. Just a little while longer. Things will get better, but I need your support. You are strong and you have prevailed thus far.**

**As a prisoner in my own palace, it is difficult to sit back and watch this Kingdom suffer at the hands of my own father, but I promise, I will help you. It’s my hope that you and I can build a relationship that is symbiotic—I can provide for you whatever money or support you need, and in return, you stand at my side. Whatever you need, as long as it is within these walls, I can accomplish for you. If you ever need to contact me, send a letter by bat directly to the palace and I will ensure it gets to me.**

**Ganbatte, Governor Chwe. You have an ally in me. I hope I can say the same for you.**

**~ I.M.**

**This is the name I go by. Remember it, Governor Chwe. If you decide to trust me, it will be useful to you.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where things start to get confusing. Please, please let me know of any plot holes or things that don’t make sense. If I can address it without spoiling the story, I will. I hope you’re enjoying it so far!


	6. Chapter 6: Ganbatte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changkyun is avoiding his attendants. His guards become his confidants. No one is happy. Changkyun makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so happy with the looks I had picked out for the boys for this book aND tHeN LovE KiLLa cAMe oUt and if I could rewrite this, the first thing I'd do is change their looks. But oh well. On with the story!

**Chapter 6: Ganbatte**

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The fourteenth of November. 1889._

Following their return to Sarisong, time flies slowly, but smoothly. Hyunwoo doesn’t see the attendants as much as he used to. Prior to being imprisoned, at least one attendant would be with the Prince the entire night, but it seems now that the Prince is too scared to let them close again.

Hoseok and Hyunwoo had stopped bringing it up a while ago. The Prince never provided a reason or cared to explain himself. Trying to talk to him about it was akin to talking to a wall.

Unfortunately, the last time Hyunwoo had seen the attendants, any of them, had been over three nights ago. Kihyun and Minhyuk will appear every few hours to deliver a meal, and occasionally Kihyun will slink in and out of the room for the Prince’s laundry, but otherwise, their appearances are extremely minimal. It's been nearly four nights since anyone's seen Hyungwon at all. 

Hyunwoo has to admit, it’s more than a little strange. He’s not sure if they’re avoiding the Prince or the Prince has requested that they see him less. Either way, he doesn't understand why.

Minhyuk is the type to bring warmth to even the darkest rooms and a smile to Hyunwoo’s face in any situation. Hyungwon is a calm, soothing presence: he’s the sort of vampire Changkyun can talk to just to be listened to, and not be expected to carry a conversation with. Kihyun is a motherly, almost protective figure, and can have long, deep conversations about a variety of topics. Whereas Minhyuk can make Changkyun laugh, and Hyungwon will listen to Changkyun for hours, Kihyun matches the Prince in terms of intelligence and thoughtfulness, and their conversations can be incredibly interesting. Each of the attendants bring more energy to the Prince in their own ways. They bring out a radiance in him that is hard to catch on a normal day. 

The palace feels a bit empty without them. Hyunwoo misses their presence. Just a little. Not that he’d admit it out loud.

On the other hand, now that the attendants only appear to bring food and clean laundry, Hyunwoo and Hoseok have become Changkyun’s confidants. They haven’t yet managed to bring the Prince out of his shell the way his attendants had, and the Prince is naturally quiet, but he talks to them much more than he used to, and Hyunwoo isn’t complaining. He finds himself listening fully to the Prince when he rambles, regardless of whatever it is he’s talking about. Most of the time he prattles on about whatever book he’s currently reading, or something he’s writing, but Hyunwoo is happy to listen to him.

Hyunwoo has found that Prince Changkyun is quite peculiar, and thinks very deeply about certain things. He will analyze history textbooks and has a mosaic of notes pinned to the wall by his reading chair. The Prince's handwriting ranges anywhere from impeccable to chicken scratch: the legible ones are often well thought out notes and the indescernable notes are written in a kind of haste, like he must get his thoughts down before they vanish from his head. The Prince has discovered that Hoseok and Hyunwoo, being academy graduates—and, in Hyunwoo’s case, related to quite a few ingenious military men—are reliable sources for questions and discussions about military strategy. Hyunwoo quite enjoys having conversations with the Prince. The Prince has a thirst for knowledge, and Hyunwoo finds it admirable.

Some nights after their return to the city, Changkyun is perched at his desk, writing something. It’s barely midnight and he’s writing like there’s no tomorrow. The rapid scratching of his ink pen is the only sound to fill the silence. Hyunwoo is, regrettably, in his own universe; he’s let his mind drift away from him. It’s quiet and peaceful. 

Then something small and dark slams into the window above Prince Changkyun’s desk. 

It creates a terrible bang, and both Hoseok and Hyunwoo jump at the noise. Shocked, Hyunwoo snaps his head toward the sound, ready to spring into action, but Prince Changkyun lurches to his feet. There’s a horrible shriek as the chair’s feet scrape the wooden floor in his haste, and the Prince tosses open the apparently unlocked window, and grabs something furry and black before it can plummet to the ground four stories below. He sets the thing down on his desk gently, closing his window with his other hand. Hyunwoo moves closer, cautiously, to see what it is, and realizes the thing is a little bat. 

“You poor creature,” Prince Changkyun says softly, surveying the stunned bat. “Who do you come from?”

The bat squeaks pitifully and Prince Changkyun pulls the left drawer of his desk out. He rummages for a moment, and Hoseok and Hyunwoo watch, ready to intervene if necessary, and then Changkyun stands up.

“I don’t have anything for you to eat, little one. I’m sorry,” Prince Changkyun murmurs. He shifts a little, and Hyunwoo gets a clear view of the bat. It’s adorably small, and there’s a letter nearly twice its size tied to its ankle with a red ribbon.

Prince Changkyun rubs the bat gently behind its head. The animal coos and with an erratic jerk, it flexes its webbed wings, sending the Prince’s ink pen skittering across the table. The Prince doesn’t make any move to catch it, but the bat watches in fascination as the pen rolls away, leaving a trail of dark black ink on the mahogany. While the bat is distracted, the Prince swiftly unties the ribbon, and the letter flutters to the floor. 

The letter lands face up, with the wax seal on the floor, and there’s no writing on the front side. The Prince bends down to pick it up, and his body freezes when he turns it over to look at the wax seal. Hyunwoo is instantly on edge.

“Is it from the Governor of Haegye?” Hyunwoo asks cautiously. Hoseok looks at him in horror.

“No. It can’t be,” Hoseok counters instantly, clearly already concerned. “Even if he was daft enough to send a reply, he doesn’t have the Prince’s bat address. There’s no way it could have gotten to him.”

“It’s from Jooheon,” Prince Changkyun says softly, and in slight relief, Hyunwoo turns his head to look at the Prince. His face has relaxed, but he looks a little excited as he turns it over in his hand. The letter is neat and beautiful, and sealed with a red wax.

“How do you know?” Hoseok asks.

“The family coat of arms in the wax seal,” Changkyun says, then opens the same drawer again and pulls out a letter opener. Before he can open the parcel, though, the little bat squeaks, scrabbles to get upright and nearly falls off the desk. Prince Changkyun lunges to catch it.

“You’re a bit jumpy, aren’t you?” He says to the bat. He pulls a handkerchief from his pants pocket and carefully wraps the critter in the soft fabric, and Hyunwoo marvels at the gentleness with which the Prince handles the bat.

Hyunwoo smiles despite himself. His family never used bat mail—bats are priceless creatures in the Kingdom, and only the very rich can afford to have one specifically for trading letters. His entire life, Hyunwoo’s family had danced on the border between high upper class and nobility, but they’d never had a bat, and he’s never seen one up close before. He’s wary, especially because the little thing can’t seem to calm down, but he has to admit that the bat is very cute, and Hyunwoo can’t help but grin at its big black eyes and longish snout. 

“A puppy for the sky,” Hoseok coos with a tender smile. Hyunwoo smiles wider.

Prince Changkyun hums, giving the bat a final rub across the head, before setting it down gently on the center of his desk, far away from the edges of the surface. Hyunwoo watches curiously as he slides the silver letter opener through the wax—another action done with utmost care—and unfolds the paper.

* * *

Changkyun tries to ignore how his hands shake slightly as he fumbles to open the letter, keeping one eye on the fidgety bat on the table next to him. It’s apparently taken Jooheon nearly a month to write to him, but Changkyun is glad he’s been busy enough to be patient. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t think about Jooheon. He wants to see him again.

He turns away from the guards and sits back down at his desk as he unfolds the parchment and scans the page. It’s a single page of writing, and towards the bottom of the aged parchment is Jooheon’s signature. 

The bat clicks and squeaks and Changkyun uses one hand to gently rub behind its head as he begins to read.

_**For the eyes of the Prince, and no one else,** _

_**I apologize sincerely for the very late letter. The days following the Halloween ball were spent in the mountains in the Obake Kingdom, where my mother had been pleading to vacation for years. We’ve only just returned from the neighboring Kingdom as of November the eleventh. I must admit, though, those weeks after our night in the castle were... boring and tame.** _

_The feeling is mutual,_ Changkyun thinks, ignoring the heat already rising to his face.

_**I admit, I was quite bewildered to hear your eye for me, but now that I have laid my eyes on you, I cannot repel your attention. I am hopeful that you are too clear-sighted to not have observed the profound impression which your amiable qualities, intelligence and personal attractions have made upon my heart. I wish to see you again, my Prince. I wish to know you. I wish to know about your goals and plans, what pleases and displeases you. How did you first see me? Where were you; where was I? What are your hobbies? If we are to love in secret, I wish to know everything about you.** _

_**It saddens me still that we cannot meet, but the letters, I think, shall have to satisfy. I shan’t complain, though, and I must bestir myself—I think you shall find me a faithful, quick correspondent. As long as we communicate in secret, you will have a companion, a friend, and something more, in me.** _

_**I did not expect to be so instantaneously attracted to you, but it is a feeling I hold close to my heart. Love at first sight, I must say, I thought was quite silly, but now I cannot do anything but endeavor to prove my growing affection for you. I think about our kiss every day. I can only hope you are as impatient to hear from me and see me as I am for you.** _

_**I know not how you are, or where you are, or what goes on in your beautiful head. Be assured that every word you write will be a comfort to me. (And I take slight pride in being the only one in this kingdom to see your beautiful face in decades.)** _

_**Affectionately yours,** _

_**Lee Jooheon** _

_**P.S. This little bat is called Foxtrot. He’s a bit restless, but he’s a good little pet. We’ll use him to communicate. He adores being scratched behind his ears.** _

Changkyun’s a little dazed when he finishes reading, and he reads the letter again, and then again. Jooheon writes incredibly well. He’s already committed Jooheon’s handwriting to memory and the sweetness in his words, despite the fact that they don’t know each other well, leaves Changkyun feeling lightheaded, but in a good way. He’s never felt like this before.

He glances at the bat, Foxtrot, and smiles affectionately, reaching forward to rub behind the bat’s ears. Foxtrot closes his eyes as if in bliss, squeaking quietly. 

“I suppose I should write a quick response, then, hm?” He murmurs, mostly to himself. 

But it weighs on him. The bat can’t stay here long; he doesn’t have a secure way of feeding it, and someone eventually will notice that Foxtrot doesn’t belong to the royal family. As a method of communication, Byungwook uses bat mail almost exclusively, but there’s only three bats in the palace that Changkyun knows of, and bats aren’t known for being quiet critters. He’ll need to write a response as quickly as he can, if for no other reason than to get Foxtrot out of danger. 

Later, after he’s had lunch and taken a long walk around the gardens to collect his thoughts, he sits at his desk with a clean piece of paper unfolded before him and he stares at it blankly. His head is empty. He’s never given himself much thought. He’s not very interesting. No one has ever expressed such desire to know him, aside from his attendants. 

The longer he sits, the more frustrated with himself he becomes. He’s always prided himself on his ability to write, but now, no words come to him. He chews on his pen, and plays a little with Foxtrot, but he sits at his desk for nearly an hour and doesn’t manage to write a word.

He sighs, sitting back in his chair as Foxtrot gnaws on a piece of dragonfruit he’d snuck from the kitchens on his way back from his stroll through the gardens. He’s never felt this way before; he doesn’t know what it is, he doesn’t know how to make sense of it. Aside from what he’s read in certain novels and plays, the only time he’d ever seen true love was witnessing small acts of affection between his parents. But his mother has been gone for years and years, and his few memories of her are hazy. He knows she loved his father deeply, but knowing his father now, he doesn’t understand how that could be possible—how could she have loved a man such as him?

He doesn’t know anything about love. 

“Have either of you ever been in love?” he asks his guards without thinking. 

For a moment, there’s a slightly stunned silence. He turns in his chair to gaze at them expectantly. Hoseok shakes his head, but Hyunwoo answers him.

“Once,” Hyunwoo says, surprising Changkyun. His expression is as unwavered as ever.

“How did you know?” Changkyun asks. “What does it feel like?”

“Around them? You’re nervous, mostly," Hyunwoo replies easily. “But also excited. Giddy, as my mother would call it. You miss them as soon as they leave. You don’t mind making sacrifices.”

“I wouldn’t mind making sacrifices for my attendants, or for you two,” Changkyun says, again without thinking. “How is this different?”

“Does your heart beat faster when you’re around us or your attendants?” Hyunwoo asks, his plush lips quirking into a little smile. “Do you fantasize about the next time you’ll see us after we’ve gone?”

“No.” Changkyun scoffs, laughing a little.

Hyunwoo nods, smiling a bit wider. “That is how it’s different. We are just your friends; your confidants. Jooheon is someone special in his own right.”

“You don’t know him,” Changkyun says, thinking deeply about Hyunwoo’s words.

“Neither do you, Your Grace.”

It’s a valid point, and it momentarily stuns Changkyun into silence. He’s never seen or experienced true love for himself, but his opinion has been shaped by the books he’s read. Thanks to that, he’s never believed in love at first sight; he’s always understood that love is something that takes time. 

But what he feels for Jooheon is real, and it happened quickly. He knows that much. How can he be so besotted by someone he’s spoken to in person only once? He knows what he feels is real, but how long will it last? _Will_ it last? 

God, he hopes so.

“Try not to dwell on it very much, Your Grace,” Hyunwoo speaks again, calm and collected. “It will come with time. Love is complex. There are hurdles that you both must jump for your relationship to grow. Unfortunately, you have more hurdles than most.”

Changkyun thinks. Hyunwoo is right, yet again. Jooheon is someone Changkyun desperately wishes to know, wishes to hold and kiss. A relationship such as that cannot be one-sided or fearful or timid, however dangerous Changkyun’s—and by extension, Jooheon’s—situation is.

He falls silent, dips his pen into the ink, and begins to write.

* * *

_**For the eyes of Lee Jooheon,** _

_**Words cannot express my elation at receiving your letter. I shall take great care of your notes, and stow them in the most secret part of my desk. I will always know they are safe.** _

_**I must have read your letter over and over and over again and I feel so excited, I scarcely know how or what to reply. You cannot but have observed my deep intentions to be close to you, despite the distance that lies between us; the distance that seems to span an ocean. I, too, hope to learn about you; to know who you are, what pleases and irks you, what your desires are, what you dream of every night.** _

_**Jooheon, affection is of slow growth, but it does, too, sometimes spring up seemingly in just a moment. I have been in your society but once, and yet your impressions have struck me so deeply and powerfully that I cannot forbear writing to you. In the hour we spent together, my heart was stolen. We know very little of each other, and I am sure the wisest man would say that hearts are not to be exchanged in the dark, but for you, I am willing.** _

_**Your words surprise me, but they simultaneously warm my heart. I feared that you would be apprehensive, and I am sure that you are, and you have every right to be. But please do not be doubtful when I tell you this: I have seen you in my secret outings, and every time, it’s as though the breath of fresh air I breathed while out of this dreadful palace was stolen by you the moment I saw you. I first saw you in the bakery near the lovely old bookstore, the bookstore that towers above the city like a clock tower of ageless novelties. You were alone, with a smaller man next to you, gazing upon the baked delicacies with longing. I knew then I wanted your eyes upon me.** _

_**But how to approach you? I like to believe I am clever and quick, but for you, I am useless. I am afraid I am clueless and shy. And so I watched from afar, sometimes sneaking away from my prison just to find you.** _

_**I hope you don’t find that to be strange or creepy. I assure you I would not normally behave that way, but it is because of you, my sensibility is obscured. You’ve shaken my heart, and I must admit, it is a feeling like no other.** _

_**You write so well, I cannot help but wonder if it is a hobby of yours. I myself prefer to read and write when I have time to myself, but you occupy my thoughts so often, my most recent poetry is about you. I cannot say that I am of exceptional interest, but you, you must be.** _

_**Let me hear from you again soon. I anxiously await your letters.** _

_**Truly yours** _

_**Changkyun** _

_**P.S. I will take wonderful care of Foxtrot when he visits. What are his favorite fruits? I’ll be sure to have some nearby the next time he crashes into my window.** _

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The fifteenth of November. 1889._

The next evening, Hoseok has a rare sighting of one of Changkyun’s attendants. Minhyuk crosses his path quickly, so quickly Hoseok almost doesn’t see him, but his hair is a pale peach, almost pink, and in the candlelit hallways of the castle, it’s hard to miss. 

“Minhyuk-ssi,” he calls.

Hoseok fears Minhyuk will pretend he hasn’t heard Hoseok, but he stops dead. He doesn’t turn around, though, and Hoseok approaches him warily.

“Minhyuk-ssi?” he repeats.

Minhyuk turns around. He’s holding a tray of some sort of soup that looks as though it’s probably gone cold, and a goblet of dark red blood. His eyes are nervous. It’s unsettling. Hoseok had been under the impression that Minhyuk is a hard vampire to instill fear in.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Hoseok says, hoping to let the attendant go back to whatever he’s doing quickly. “I was wondering if you might tell me where Kihyun-ssi is.”

Minhyuk’s stare hardens a little at the mention of the brunette, but Hoseok isn’t quite sure why.

“You can probably find him in the laundry room,” Minhyuk says. “Do you… need help finding it?”

Hoseok’s cheeks turn a little pink. “Ah, um, no. Thank you. I’ll just... leave you alone, then. Thank you.”

Minhyuk blinks owlishly, then nods, and turns and walks away. Hoseok stares at Minhyuk’s back as he vanishes into the shadows of the palace, and he wonders if the tray of soup is for Prince Changkyun. But, no—it wouldn’t be. Kihyun had delivered a plate of breakfast to the Prince’s chamber only two hours earlier. Who could the dish be for?

He ponders this as he makes his way to the laundry room. As Minhyuk had said he would, he finds Kihyun there, knelt over a basket of clothing. He doesn’t appear to notice as Hoseok wanders into the room, so Hoseok quietly clears his throat.

Kihyun looks sharply at the door. He exhales softly when he realizes it’s only Hoseok, and gets to his feet. Hoseok notices him wince as he straightens, and wonders how long he’s been down here, bent over the laundry.

“Are you all right?” Hoseok asks.

Kihyun stares, then nods slowly. “Of-of course. Can I help you?”

 _How peculiar,_ Hoseok thinks. Kihyun is under no obligation to assist him. He wonders why the attendant asked.

“I.. would like to formally apologize for the way I spoke to you,” Hoseok says earnestly. “I am afraid we got off on the wrong foot. Please allow me to apologize.”

Kihyun watches him closely for a moment, and Hoseok can’t help but notice how exhausted he appears. Like Minhyuk, his eyes are nervous, a little cold. His posture suggests he’s trying to protect himself.

“That was weeks ago,” Kihyun says at last. “You’re still thinking about it?”

Hoseok tries not to wince. He’s not sure how to take that.

“Perhaps that will give you an idea of how heavily it’s been weighing on me,” Hoseok tries.

Kihyun’s eyes narrow. His expression is calculating, and Hoseok can’t read it very well.

“You’re a bit of a softie, aren’t you?” Kihyun says, and something like a tiny smile graces his pretty lips. 

“I’m not here to have enemies,” Hoseok replies evenly. “That’s why I’d like to settle this. I am sorry, Kihyun-ssi.”

Kihyun nods, shifting his gaze to the floor. “I appreciate the apology, and accept.”

Hoseok feels his chest loosen. Although it hasn’t been very long, he’s learned quite a bit during his time here. One of the things he’s learned is to keep judgment upon a first meeting at a minimum. Everyone he’s encountered within the walls of this palace have been more than what initially met his eye. 

He’s learned Kihyun is cunning, adaptable, and incredibly capable. And Minhyuk had been right—a person like that is not someone Hoseok wants as an enemy.

There’s a pregnant silence. Kihyun watches him for another long moment, then turns back to the laundry.

“Where’s the Prince?” Kihyun asks rather offhandedly.

“His chambers,” Hoseok replies easily. 

“Not sneaking out of the country, I hope?”

Hoseok huffs a little laugh. “Not at the moment, no.”

“And the speech? How did it go?”

“It didn’t,” Hoseok says quietly. “We stopped him.”

At this, Kihyun stops. He turns to face Hoseok, and his eyes are wide with warning.

“He was understanding, once we explained.” Hoseok assures him. “Hyunwoo and I realized it would be too dangerous. I grew up rather sheltered; I’m afraid I didn’t know if the Prince would be safe doing what he planned to do. Under the threat of a man like his father, we didn’t want to risk it. We convinced him to send a letter to the governor of Haegye, instead.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Kihyun asks sharply.

Unamused, Hoseok gives him a flat look. “Give me one good reason I’d lie to you about this. What else must I do to prove to you I am not your enemy?”

“I don’t care if you’re my enemy,” Kihyun says. “I care if you’re Prince Changkyun’s enemy.”

“Hyunwoo overheard a few residents of Haegye talking about the Prince. What they said was… well, it indicated they do not trust him. Even in a city such as Haegye, where the citizens are neutral to the King’s behavior, they are unsympathetic and distrustful. We knew if he continued on with his speech, the chances of a negative outcome outweighed the alternative. It was all we could do to convince him to send a letter instead.”

Kihyun hesitates, apparently thinking to himself.

“And you’ve not breathed a word of this to anyone else in the castle?” he mutters.

“If that had been my plan, I would have done so already,” Hoseok says. “I can see you do not underestimate my power in this role, Kihyun. If I were truly on the King’s side, I would have used it long ago.”

“And this letter,” Kihyun bites, “what did it contain?”

“It was an apology,” Hoseok says, thinking hard to remember everything the Prince had written. “An apology for making the citizens wait so long for help. It was a message that His Grace is on their side, and that he humbly asks for their assistance, should anything happen. It was… a proposal, as well. A proposal that Prince Changkyun will provide Haegye with whatever it needs in exchange for their help if there is, for example, a coup.”

Kihyun stares long and hard at him. 

“If you do not believe me, perhaps you should ask the Prince himself,” Hoseok says, patience dwindling. “Even though he does not seem to desire your presence these days.”

Kihyun’s stare sharpens into something venomous.

“For the sake of your 'apology,' I am going to ignore that comment,” Kihyun snaps. 

Realizing his mistake, Hoseok swallows. He dips his head. “I’m sorry. I simply don’t know what else to say to get you to understand that Hyunwoo and I are going to do whatever we can to aid the Prince.”

“It does seem to be the wisest option, now that I think about it,” Kihyun mumbles. “A letter, rather than a speech. How will we know the governor has decided to trust the Prince?”

“We won’t, until the Prince needs something and reaches out to him for help,” Hoseok admits. “We all came to the conclusion that there really is no way the governor will know that it really is Prince Changkyun contacting him. All we can do now is hope that the governor has not lost all faith in the Lim family.”

There’s another long pause. Kihyun sucks in a breath.

“Thank you,” he says simply.

“Whatever for?”

“For stopping him,” Kihyun says. “I… I must admit, the entire time you were gone, I worried. I fear for him, honestly, I do. He is brave, but he is not usually so reckless. To make a speech, I felt, was particularly rash. I am relieved I was not the only one to think so. So, I thank you.”

Kihyun meets Hoseok’s gaze. There’s genuine gratitude in Kihyun’s dark eyes. And it’s that moment that Hoseok realizes he’s gained Kihyun’s trust. At this moment, Hoseok knows they’ve reached a ceasefire, an armistice of sorts. He allows himself to smile, and nods.

“So. Friends?” Hoseok asks hopefully.

Kihyun gives Hoseok a small, wry smile. 

“...Yes. All right.”

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The sixteenth of November. 1889._

Minhyuk shifts the tray of soup into one arm as he raises to knock on the door. He pauses, not sure why he’s knocking on his own bedroom door, and sighs as he twists the knob and pushes the door open. 

The room is empty, aside from the lump on the bed further from the door. Minhyuk glances at Hyungwon’s form under the white futon. His hand, thin and pale, is draped over the side of the bed. Hyungwon had been steadily gaining weight during his time here, having access to blood and food, but his recent time in the prison in the castle had shaken him so much, his health had begun to waver.

Minhyuk feels so unspeakably guilty that he hadn’t noticed. He’d been so concerned about the Prince, so concerned about himself, that he hadn’t noticed Hyungwon was struggling until it was too late.

He hadn’t noticed Hyungwon was struggling until he and Kihyun returned from laundry duty to find the youngest attendant in the middle of a nervous breakdown, a puddle of tears on the dusty stone floor of their bedroom. He’s been in bed, too frail to move, for three nights.

And Minhyuk’s guilt has begun to consume him. He can’t be away from the youngest for longer than a few hours at most without getting anxious. He and Kihyun have been doing what they can to help him regain his strength, but Hyungwon was already thin before he suffered his breakdown. There’s only so much Minhyuk and Kihyun can do to help him now. 

“Hyungwon-ah,” he murmurs, kneeling by the younger’s bed. “Wake up for me, Wonnie.”

Hyungwon doesn’t move, but that’s not unusual for him. Minhyuk spends a few long minutes waking him up, but he’s relieved that the man is getting sleep, so he’s not too concerned by how long it takes to pull him into consciousness. His tunic hangs from his shoulders as he sits up, and he looks at Minhyuk tiredly.

Minhyuk gives him a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Hyungwon says sleepily. 

“Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough. Thank you.”

“I brought you some soup, and a cup of chicken blood.”

“Hyung, I…”

“It’s okay if you don’t want the soup, but drink at least some of the blood. You need to regain your strength, Hyungwon-ah.”

“For who, Minhyuk?” Hyungwon says, and even though he’s clearly tired, Minhyuk detects undercurrents of anger in his voice. “The Prince, who has not summoned any of us, not once, in almost a week? Must I regain my strength for someone who no longer desires our help?”

Minhyuk blinks, taken aback. He’d been trying so hard not to think about Prince Changkyun’s lack of responsiveness. Distracting himself with extra chores, learning how to cook through Kyungsoo and Seokjin, and familiarizing himself with areas of the castle he’s unfamiliar with had been working, sort of.

He’d been hoping that Hyungwon’s recovery would distract him from it as well, but it seems he’d hoped in vain. It seems Hyungwon is more attentive to what’s been happening around him than Minhyuk had assumed.

“If not for His Grace, then for yourself,” Minhyuk says. “You’re of no use to anyone in that bed, if that’s how you choose to see it—but you’re of even less use to yourself.”

Hyungwon looks at him dully, but Minhyuk can tell his words have stung him.

“I am afraid, hyung,” Hyungwon admits quietly.

Minhyuk softens. 

He reaches up and takes Hyungwon’s hand. “I understand. I am, too. But you can prove to everyone in this palace that you’re strong enough to go on even in the face of such danger.”

“I don’t know if I’m that brave.”

“I know you’re brave.”

They both turn to see Kihyun standing on the threshold of the room. His face is weary, but kind.

“When you feel like yourself again, you’ll go back to delivering the Prince his meals,” Kihyun declares. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see your face again.”

“I hadn’t realized the Prince had missed me so,” Hyungwon comments sarcastically, and for a split moment Minhyuk sees him—their Hyungwon.

Kihyun had seen it, too, for he smiles wider. “Anyone would miss your presence once they realize it’s gone.”

“You flatter me.”

“And you need to eat something. Drink the blood Minhyuk brought you. Go on, now.”

Minhyuk hands Hyungwon the goblet, and Hyungwon’s hand, bony and thin, is shaking as he takes it, but he takes it nonetheless, and sips from it. Minhyuk gives him a smile and a satisfied nod, seeing the color start to return to Hyungwon already. It’s been three nights since they’ve managed to feed him; this is a small victory that Minhyuk won’t let go of so easily.

As he glances at Kihyun, busy turning down his bed covers, he remembers running into Hoseok in the hallway. The guard had seemed unusually shy.

“Kihyun, Hoseok-ssi was looking for you earlier,” Minhyuk comments, standing. “Did he find you?”

“Yes,” Kihyun says absently. He’s busy tugging the curtains on his window shut. 

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to apologize for being an arse back in September.”

“That was months ago,” Hyungwon remarks. “Why would he wait so long?”

As he speaks he wipes a rivulet of blood from his lip. If Kihyun had seen it, he doesn’t comment—he’s probably just relieved to see Hyungwon consuming something. 

“He told me it’s been weighing on him,” Kihyun says with a sigh. 

“Since September?” Minhyuk arches an eyebrow.

“I suppose. But I guess now I’ll have to trust him.”

Appalled, Minhyuk shares a glance with Hyungwon. 

Kihyun must’ve seen their look, because he says, “if you believe I’ll let go of what he said so easily, you’re wrong, but he’s proven to me he does have Prince Changkyun’s best interests at heart.”

“Who are you and what’ve you done with Yoo Kihyun?” Minhyuk demands, only sort of joking.

Kihyun huffs a laugh that sounds like a sigh. “He and Hyunwoo stopped Prince Changkyun from going through with his speech.”

“ _What?_ ” Hyungwon gasps. Minhyuk’s mouth falls open.

“You’re lying,” Minhyuk breathes.

“I suppose there’s no way to confirm it unless we ask the Prince himself, but that’s what Hoseok told me,” Kihyun says.

And he tells them everything Hoseok had told him: that the Prince instead had sent a letter to the governor of Haegye, asking for trust, and that the middle class people of Haegye, however unaffected they may be in a war of the classes, are, too, distrustful of the royal family. 

“And the Prince just listened to them?” Hyungwon says in awe, when Kihyun is finished with his tale.

“Not without argument, I’m sure,” Kihyun says, “the Prince is nothing if not determined.”

“And you’re nothing if not prideful, Kihyun,” Minhyuk says softly. “Forgive me for my bluntness, but it is true. I must admit I am surprised at your decision to trust Hoseok, given your past… interactions.”

“I am, as well, in truthfulness,” Kihyun agrees, nodding thoughtfully. “But Hoseok and Hyunwoo are in positions of power, being guards hired by the king. We can find a way to use that to our advantage.”

“It sounds to me like we’ve already got it to our advantage,” Hyungwon tilts his head. “If Hoseok is telling the truth and they’ve switched sides, then why try to manipulate them?”

“Because I want Hoseok to know if he crosses me again, I won’t be so quick to forgive,” Kihyun says darkly. 

Minhyuk shares another glance with Hyungwon when Kihyun’s back is turned. Hyungwon doesn’t seem to understand, but Minhyuk does—he understands completely that Kihyun has Hoseok right where he wants him.

Minhyuk might adore Kihyun to death, but there are times when even he feels intimidated the crafty servant.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The seventeenth of November. 1889._

“All this talk of apology has made me realize something,” Kihyun says suddenly, entering the bedroom.

Hyungwon looks up from his book. Minhyuk pauses, trying desperately to catch up with Kihyun’s fast train of thought. Kihyun waits patiently—he’d caught Minhyuk completely off guard—and when Minhyuk finally understands, he looks at Kihyun expectantly.

“I never apologized to you for our argument,” Kihyun says simply.

“In the dungeons,” Minhyuk realizes.

Kihyun nods. “I am sorry, Minhyuk. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Nor did I,” Minhyuk says truthfully. “I—”

“No,” Kihyun says, holding his hand up. “Listen to me.” He lays his hand over Minhyuk’s. “What I said to you… about Hyunwoo. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.”

Minhyuk would be lying if he said he’d forgotten what Kihyun had said, and that it really had stung him. 

“You don’t think it’s too obvious, do you?” Minhyuk asks, smiling weakly.

His attempt at using humor to deflect the comment doesn’t work on Kihyun. He gives him a flat look.

“I hate that you can read me so easily,” Minhyuk says. 

“I’ve had years and years of practice, Minhyuk. And you haven’t changed much since we were small.”

“You have, that’s for sure.” Minhyuk mutters.

Kihyun leans back, looking a little surprised. Minhyuk tries to ignore how Hyungwon is still sitting on his bed, watching the conversation like a tennis match. 

“Tell me how,” Kihyun says. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“I know you’re always one step ahead, but must you use that advantage on me?” Minhyuk asks. “I’m your friend, Kihyun.”

“I know, and I was out of line for backing you into that corner,” Kihyun says, sounding genuinely apologetic. “It was wrong of me.”

“It… it’s all right.” Minhyuk says, even though he’s not sure if it is. He doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of Kihyun’s cruelty. “I will never underestimate you, Kihyun. Don’t use that against me.”

“I won’t.” Kihyun promises, looking Minhyuk directly in the eyes.

Minhyuk feels satisfaction bloom in his chest, and covers up the feeling with a gentle, appreciative smile. Kihyun can be quite the actor when the time comes. He doesn’t seem to know yet that Minhyuk can do the same.

“So you do have feelings for the guard, then?” Hyungwon asks casually.

Minhyuk turns to him. Hyungwon is looking at him passively. 

“I don’t know,” Minhyuk says, even though he’s perfectly aware of his own feelings.

“What does it feel like?” Hyungwon asks curiously.

Confused, Minhyuk tilts his head. “How do you mean?”

“To be romantically interested in someone. How does it feel?”

“You’ve never loved anyone, Hyungwon?” Kihyun asks, sounding surprised, too.

“I think myself incapable,” Hyungwon says coolly.

“No one is incapable of love.”

“Romantic love, I mean. I have no desire for it, nor do I feel it.”

“Not once in your life?”

“Not once.”

Kihyun doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Hyungwon, however, is looking at Minhyuk with a fairly serious expression on his face. It seems to Minhyuk his question hadn’t been rhetorical.

“Er… I suppose it’s different for everyone,” Minhyuk says. 

“So how do you feel it?”

Minhyuk ponders. “Well… for me it’s shyness. I grow flustered in his presence.”

Kihyun gives him a knowing look. Minhyuk ignores him. 

“And will you try to act on it?”

Minhyuk evades answering by laughing.

“I’m serious,” Hyungwon says. “And if you do, I want to help.”

“But how can you help me if you yourself have never felt romantic love? Or desire to feel it?”

“I don’t know,” Hyungwon shrugs. “But I’m willing to try for you. For all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I feel I can do.”

Touched, Minhyuk stares at him. Kihyun stares at Minhyuk; he tries not to squirm under his keen dark brown stare.

“Perhaps it is best I don’t act on it,” Minhyuk sighs, suddenly melancholy. “That’s not why I’m here, is it?”

“‘You’re of no use to anyone in that bed, but you’re of even less use to yourself.’ Isn’t that what you said to me the other night?” Hyungwon says. “So why not at least do something for yourself while you can?”

Minhyuk is shocked into silence again. This place—not even just the palace, but the city, too—is full of people who think of themselves first. And Minhyuk and Kihyun are definitely among those people, but Hyungwon is not. Hyungwon is… like a mouse in a den of snakes. 

Perhaps that’s why Minhyuk is suddenly swallowing tears. He’s grown up learning how to act, learning how to play different roles, but he doesn’t feel good toying with the likes of Hyungwon. Growing up the way he did, he’d have thought Hyungwon would be prickly and defensive too, but—he isn’t. Minhyuk wants to teach Hyungwon how to protect himself, but that would mean stealing his innocence, and he doesn’t want to do that to him.

So Minhyuk nods, gives Hyungwon a shaky smile, because that’s all he can do without showing just how close to the edge he really is.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The twentieth of November. 1889._

“If you were to kill someone… how would you go about doing it?”

Hyunwoo startles at the sudden question. Next to him, Hoseok looks equally as horrified.

“Your Grace,” Hyunwoo says, because he’s not sure what else to say.

At his desk, Prince Changkyun glances at him, and waves a hand. “Hypothetically, of course. And it isn’t exactly necessary that no one finds out it was you. But if you had an opportunity to kill someone who deserves to die, how would you do it?”

Hyunwoo ponders. Hoseok still looks like he can’t find words.

“I suppose it would depend on the manner in which I would want him or her to die,” Hyunwoo says slowly. 

“Quickly, but not necessarily painlessly.”

“Run them through with a sword,” Hyunwoo says bluntly. "Or gash their neck open with a knife."

“That would be so... messy. Can’t you think of something more subtle?” Prince Changkyun says, getting to his feet and moving towards his bookcase. On his desk is an unopened letter from Jooheon. Foxtrot is chewing determinedly on the Prince's ink pen. Hyunwoo wonders why Prince Changkyun hasn’t bothered to open the letter yet.

“If it’s not important that no one knows it was you, then what’s stopping you from stabbing this person in broad moonlight?”

“It’s not necessary, but it’s not _un_ necessary. Any assassination needs to be… stealthy. A tiger is quick to pounce; a snake is eager to not be seen. This needs to be like that. A snake and a tiger.”

“I suppose poison would be an effective weapon,” Hoseok says at last, still a little pale. "If it's subtlety you're going for."

"Loosen a screw in the chandelier above his head, so while he sleeps, it falls and crushes him," Hyunwoo muses.

"Wait until he's alone, and strike him on the back of the head with a pot."

“Take him out into the Glittering Waters and push him overboard.” 

“Startle a horse drawing a carriage so it goes mad and runs him over.”

“Drown him in the very same bucket of water that the servants use to wash his laundry.”

Prince Changkyun glances at them, something like bemusement on his face. “I had no idea my guards were so well versed in methods of assassination. You, Hyunwoo, particularly surprise me.”

“I’d never kill someone, Your Highness, but being the grandson of a general has its perks,” Hyunwoo says vaguely.

Prince Changkyun nods slowly, absorbing this information. He scans his bookcase, eyes darting back and forth across the titles. It’s quiet for a long while as the Prince looks for something. He pulls books down, flips through the yellowed, crisp pages before he reshelves them again. At last he sighs, shoving a withered-looking book back into the shelf. He turns to look at the guards.

“We’re going to the library,” he says firmly.

And they have no choice but to follow.

* * *

They spend hours in the library. Hyunwoo has never been more bored in his life.

The Prince, however, spends those hours scanning the towers of bookshelves. In alternate occasions, Hoseok and Hyunwoo had gotten up to help him, but seeing as Prince Changkyun is highly unwilling to tell them exactly what he’s looking for, their help had been useless.

And so they stand, watching him, as he vanishes down one row of books and returns from another corner. 

At last, when it feels like he’s been looking for nights, he sighs, clearly frustrated. He’s been reading the thousands of titles in the stone library for ages; Hyunwoo doesn’t understand how he hasn’t gone cross-eyed.

“It’s not here,” the Prince murmurs to himself, just loudly enough for his guards to hear him. “But where else could it be?”

“Your Grace,” Hoseok says, trying and failing to not sound impatient, “perhaps it would be best if we tried to help you. What is it you’re looking for?” 

“Unimportant,” Prince Changkyun replies, just as he’d replied the last three times Hoseok had asked.

“It can’t be unimportant if it’s taken up hours of your night to find,” Hyunwoo says.

Prince Changkyun waves him off in agitation. “I’ve looked everywhere it could be and then some. It’s late; I’ll return to my chambers and you two can retire for the day.”

“We’ll walk you back to your chambers, of course,” Hyunwoo says.

“Unnecessary. I’m more than capable of finding my own room.”

Alarm bells go off in Hyunwoo’s head. Prince Changkyun knows better than this: he knows perfectly well he can’t be alone. And he’s smarter than this, and he knows that Hyunwoo and Hoseok are smarter than this. What is it he wants?

“If you must know, I will be seeing Yoongi,” Prince Changkyun says.

“Are you quite well, Your Grace?”

“Of course,” the Prince says, “but you understand that I would much rather have privacy.”

It’s not a question. Hyunwoo knows the Prince is up to something, but there’s nothing he can say to that. He glances at Hoseok, who looks quite unsure, and nods brusquely before looking back at the Prince. 

“Very well. We shall accompany you to his chambers,” Hyunwoo says, trying to make it clear he’s onto the Prince.

Prince Changkyun fixes him with an easy smile, one that looks much too easy to be real, for it doesn’t reach his eyes—and he nods. Then he starts for the spiral staircase leading to the doors of the library. Hyunwoo and Hoseok rush to follow.

Hyunwoo can’t shake the feeling that Prince Changkyun is one step ahead of him, that Prince Changkyun knows something he doesn't. He feels as though the interaction was a trap, and Hyunwoo had walked right in as Prince Changkyun held the door open. He’s wary of the Prince as they travel through the hallways. He tries to pay close attention to his gait and his body language, but he can’t see anything out of the ordinary. The thought frustrates him so much; just when he feels he’s learned more about the Prince, something happens to prove him wrong.

And he’s grown so weary of always finding himself at square one.

When they arrive at Yoongi’s room, Prince Changkyun turns to them.

“When you wake tomorrow evening, come to my chambers and we will go to the gardens,” he says softly. “Bring your swords.”

Shocked, Hyunwoo stares at him. They always have their swords on their persons, being royal guards, so the request is quite unusual. 

He’s not given a moment to ask for reasoning or clarification, though, because at that moment Prince Changkyun knocks once on the door and a moment later, the palace physician pulls the door open. The room behind him is so dark Yoongi is nothing more than a shadow in the doorway. With one final dismissive smile and a gaze laced hot with warning, Prince Changkyun slips into the room and the door shuts silently behind him.

Mind reeling, Hyunwoo has no other choice but to wander back to his chambers. Sleep does not come easy that day.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The twenty-first of November. 1889._

Hyunwoo and Hoseok are supposed to arrive at the Prince’s bedroom about an hour before the Prince wakes up, but when they get to his chamber the next evening at a quarter to eight in the evening, he’s already awake, dressed, and ready to go somewhere.

“Your Grace,” Hyunwoo says by way of greeting. Hoseok nods at him; he doesn’t look like he slept much either.

Prince Changkyun hums back, sliding a ring onto his finger. He’s dressed plainly, in a white tunic and brown corset-like belt and black pants. Aside from the ring, he’s not wearing as much jewelry as Hyunwoo is accustomed to seeing him wear. His neck and wrists, usually adorned with silver jewelry, are bare.

“Are you ready?” Prince Changkyun asks.

“We aren’t leaving the city, are we?” Hoseok asks, and Hyunwoo doesn’t blame him for being concerned.

“No,” Prince Changkyun says. “But tonight, my father is leaving for peace negotiations with the Werewolf Sultanate. I have to see him off. Afterwards, you two are going to teach me how to use a sword.” 

“Peace negotiations?” Hoseok repeats.

Prince Changkyun nods, rolling his eyes as he rubs at his bare left wrist. “He won’t get anywhere with them. He never does. Not that he tries.”

“I wasn't aware the Vampires’ relationship with the Werewolves was dwindling,” Hyunwoo mumbles.

“Whatever the relationship is, it’s not good,” Prince Changkyun sighs. “And my father will make it worse, no doubt. Once he’s gone, though, you two will train me.”

Hyunwoo is a bit surprised; he doesn’t mind teaching the Prince to use a sword. Given his apparent lack of self-defense skills, it’s probably very wise of the Prince to demand to learn. Especially if the royal relationship between the Vampires and the Werewolves is hanging on by a thread, as he’s describing—learning how to fight is a skill of utmost importance.

“Very well, then,” Prince Changkyun says, and in the distance, a horn blows, followed by the sound of the royal gong being rung. 

He leads Hyunwoo and Hoseok down to the throne room of the palace, and as they arrive, the King steps into the grand hall. Everyone who had gone to see the King off—about half of the palace’s staff, including Seokjin, Namjoon, and Yoongi—goes to their knees, sinking to the floor in a wave as if they’ve collectively exhaled, breathing their life into the stormy monarch as he goes by. Prince Changkyun is the only one who does not press his forehead to the stone; he stays standing, but bends his body and head forward in a mild act of respect.

Hyunwoo keeps his forehead against the floor, fighting shivers as the coldness of the stone seeps into his skin, but he can hear the King passing Prince Changkyun. His footsteps are loud, and the noisy, annoying jingle of the jewels that drape his body clinking against each other ring in Hyunwoo’s ears. Then, he hears the sharp rustle of fabric, and Prince Changkyun makes a noise halfway between a gasp and a grunt.

There are no words spoken between the Prince and his father, but Hyunwoo figures the King must have grabbed or hit Prince Changkyun somehow. When the King’s footsteps finally walk away, towards the large doors leading to the palace throne room, the room holds its breath, tense, waiting—and the moment the grandiose doors slam shut, everyone exhales all at once. 

When Hyunwoo gets back to his feet, Prince Changkyun is rubbing his shoulder, wearing a face like thunder. The fabric of the right shoulder of his tunic is wrinkled, so Hyunwoo figures that is probably where the King grabbed him. Prince Changkyun gives Hyunwoo and Hoseok a hard stare, and leads them silently away from the room.

Outside in the gardens, they find a patch of grass near the Lim Family monolith situated in the centre of the royal gardens. Surrounding the monolith is a fountain, and the water, cool and clear, shimmers quietly. On the other side of the wall, protecting the palace from all that surrounds it, Hyunwoo can hear the waves of the Glittering Waters crashing against the rocks that border the peninsula upon which the castle is situated. 

The evening is cold. It’s still early, barely ten p.m., but the sun sets early in the winter, so at least remnants of sunlight won’t be an issue. The light from the moon, still clawing its way across the endless indigo above, settles over Hyunwoo’s skin, and he raises his face towards its white brilliance, soaking in its rays. It’s a lovely evening, and he’s sure with the sweat he’ll work up, the Prince won’t be cold for very long.

“Someday, when I tear this bloody palace to the ground, I’ll replace these grounds and all its obelisks and trinkets with a hanging garden,” Prince Changkyun says, surveying the beautiful grounds around him with his hands on his hips. “It’ll be a temple, of sorts, and the plants will hang like rain. And there won’t be a wall blocking the view of the sea.”

Hyunwoo can picture it in his head already. He already finds this part of the castle beautiful, but what Prince Changkyun is describing is something much more peaceful.

“Now, then,” Changkyun says, turning to his guards in anticipation. “Where do we begin?”

* * *

“When it comes to a fight or a battle, there is only you, your sword, and your enemy. You must focus. You must drown out the energy around you.” Hoseok barks.

They’ve been at it for an hour and a half. Five feet away from Hyunwoo, Prince Changkyun stands at the ready, Hoseok’s sword in his hand. He’s sweaty, just as Hyunwoo had predicted he would be, but Hyunwoo himself is also sweaty. Guarding a recluse such as Prince Changkyun means he doesn’t see much action, let alone participate in it. But it’s not the fault of the Prince. 

Hyunwoo could get used to sparring again. He probably needs the exercise.

The blade of Hoseok’s sword in Prince Changkyun’s hand glitters fantastically in the moonlight. When Hyunwoo and Hoseok had been in the academy, they’d used sticks and fencing swords for the first few years before being given real weapons. Prince Changkyun has skipped the first lessons entirely, and now wields a weapon that could truly wound someone. Hyunwoo wishes this thought didn’t make him as uneasy as it does. 

Hoseok barks an order and Prince Changkyun thrusts the blade towards Hyunwoo; Hyunwoo blocks the jab easily, but the Prince is quick. He slashes again and their blades meet with a terrible clang.

In the academy, Hyunwoo had had to spar with cadets who were right handed or left handed—or, sometimes, both—but the vast majority of his sparring partners had been right-handed. Prince Changkyun is left-handed. This presents another challenge: not only is Prince Changkyun wildly inexperienced, Hyunwoo and Hoseok are having trouble teaching him due to his natural handedness. 

Prince Changkyun makes the mistake of stabbing towards Hyunwoo’s leg—a move that is easily deflected. Hyunwoo catches the blade with his own and with a flick of his wrist, sends it flying out of the Prince’s hand. The sword lands, blade down, in the earth a few paces away.

Breathing heavily, the Prince puts his hands on his hips. His forehead shimmers with perspiration.

“It’s all right to be frustrated,” Hyunwoo says. “It took Hoseok and me years to master this.”

“I don’t have years,” Prince Changkyun mutters.

It’s a fair point, but Hyunwoo can’t help the fond smile that comes to his lips as Hoseok retrieves the sword. He remembers the Prince had been a fast learner while learning dances for the Halloween Ball only a few weeks ago. Given how he’s already using a full-on knight’s sword, Hyunwoo has utmost confidence in him.

“Again,” Hoseok orders, handing the Prince his sword.

Prince Changkyun doesn’t seem to be eager to make the first move this time, though, because he stands with the tip of his sword at Hyunwoo’s throat for a long five seconds before Hyunwoo pushes the blade away with his own. The contact of the metal makes a terrible screeching sound, and Hyunwoo wouldn’t have been surprised if a few staff members from inside the palace came outdoors wondering about the clamor, but he’s less focused on that and more focused on the way the Prince is holding his sword. His grip on the hilt of the weapon is different from the way Hoseok had taught him earlier, but the Prince doesn’t seem bothered at all.

Hyunwoo flicks his sword, hoping to catch the Prince off guard, but Prince Changkyun had been waiting for him to strike and deflects the jab easily. Hyunwoo feels a drop of sweat trickle down his back into his tunic, and then charges.

Hoseok backs out of the way as Hyunwoo pushes Prince Changkyun back, and the Prince seems mildly surprised for a split moment before he regains his bearings and blocks Hyunwoo’s attacks. Hyunwoo manages to push him closer and closer to the fountain surrounding the obelisk in the middle of the gardens, but as soon as Prince Changkyun realizes how close he is to the little moat, he side steps Hyunwoo’s incoming blow quite easily and lands a sharp kick on Hyunwoo’s right hip.

It takes Hyunwoo a split moment to recover from the kick, but when he rights himself and turns to his right to face the Prince, there’s a ghost of a smirk on the Prince’s lip.

“Got your hip, old man?” Prince Changkyun taunts.

Off to the side, Hoseok chuckles. Hyunwoo lets a smile curl into his own mouth.

Hyunwoo is seeing a side of Prince Changkyun that only his father can bring out of him, but this time, Hyunwoo doesn't feel sorry for him. This time, he finds the Prince's transformation to be absolutely exhilarating, like something has finally breathed life into the little flame flickering in his chest. For all the abuse, neglect and cruelty he's suffered in his ninety years alive, the Prince is a wounded animal—and there is no creature more dangerous.

“Old man?” Hyunwoo chuckles, then pounces again.

“Rule number one?” Hoseok calls.

“Never take your eyes off your enemy,” Prince Changkyun recites, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the clanging of their metals. 

“The movements are all in your wrists, Your Grace, not your arms, and certainly not your whole body.” Hoseok coaches, watching their duel with terse interest and scrutinizing eyes. “A flick, not a swish.”

Hyunwoo steps up his own aggression—up to this point, he’d been going fairly easy on the Prince—and manages to beat the Prince back towards a cluster of rose bushes before they square off again, staring heavily into each other’s eyes, blades pointed at each other’s necks.

“Out of shape, my Prince?” Hyunwoo teases.

Prince Changkyun’s lips turn up in another smirk, but it turns into snarl as he lunges at Hyunwoo again. He swipes at Hyunwoo’s face, and Hyunwoo dodges just barely; he flinches at the sharp wind of the blade missing his cheek.

“What’s the weakest part of a longsword?” Hoseok quizzes.

“The middle to the tip,” Prince Changkyun grunts, and gives something like a battle cry as his blade clatters against Hyunwoo’s.

Then, the Prince makes a ciritcal error: his eyes follow his blade as he fights to get it free, instead of keeping his gaze on Hyunwoo. 

“Rule number two,” Hyunwoo says loudly.

The Prince eyes flick back to Hyunwoo’s face, but by then he’s too late—catching his blade with his own, Hyunwoo disarms him easily, and as Hoseok’s sword sails away, Hyunwoo trips Prince Changkyun and twists him around, slamming his back into Hyunwoo’s armored chest. With the wind knocked out of him, and Hyunwoo’s blade under his jaw, the Prince is pinned.

“If you have an opportunity to kick your enemy while he’s down,” Hyunwoo hisses into his ear, “don’t play nice.”

Prince Changkyun sighs against his chest, accepting defeat, and Hyunwoo lets him go. 

“Not bad for your first lesson, Your Grace,” Hoseok says, sheathing his sword. “Be aware you’ll be sore tomorrow.”

“A small price to pay.” Prince Changkyun says breathily, rubbing his shoulder as he catches his breath. “I’ll probably need to find a sword of my own.”

Hyunwoo nods, sheathing his own. “When does your father return?”

The Prince’s expression sours at the mention of his father. “Depending on whether or not he cooperates, he’ll be back any time between this morning and tomorrow evening. We won’t be able to train in broad moonlight like this every day.”

“Do you have another place in mind?” Hoseok asks.

Prince Changkyun begins to lead them back to the palace, running his fingers through his sweaty, long hair. His black locks have grown out and now frame his face and neck almost like a short lion’s mane. “The catacombs.”

“I worry about damaging the coffins and memorials in the catacombs,” Hoseok mentions.

Prince Changkyun scoffs. “What will the skeletons do? They’re dead.”

Neither of them get the chance to say anything, because as they approach the doors, Seokjin steps out into the gardens. He bows deeply at the Prince as they approach.

“He’s not back yet already, is he?” Prince Changkyun demands.

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “No, no, my Prince. I only thought you might be thirsty after your sparring. Kyungsoo has prepared lunch, if you’d like to dine in your room.”

There's something very endearing about the way Seokjin sort of just goes along with whatever Prince Changkyun does, Hyunwoo decides. The old vampire doesn't get nearly enough credit for everything he puts up with. Seokjin's loyalty to the royal family is not something to be undermined. 

Movement in Hyunwoo’s peripheral vision steals his attention from the conversation. A shadow down the hall slips away before Hyunwoo can see its face, but he catches the shine of peachy-pink hair in the candlelight and realizes Minhyuk had probably been watching. He doesn’t necessarily blame him. He only wishes the Prince could see what his inattention towards his attendants is doing to them.

“Actually,” the Prince says, “I think I’ll dine in the dining hall tonight.”

Seokjin looks appalled at the decision, but his shock melts into a gentle smile.

“At once, Your Grace.”

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The twenty-second of November. 1889._

When Kihyun wakes on the evening of his birthday, he struggles for a moment to decide whether or not he’s really awake. He turns over and sighs in contentment to see Minhyuk and Hyungwon still sleeping peacefully, but that means they hadn’t woken him up, so—what had? 

Sitting up in bed, he looks blearily around the room. The clock on the wall above the bathroom reads six fifty-two. The bells of the Vampiric Church in the city below the castle, a place of worship for the Sarisong residents devoted to the Vampiric folk religion, are almost always loud enough to wake Kihyun. They usually go off every evening at seven as a wake-up alarm for the city, but he’s woken up a bit earlier than the bells tonight and he isn’t sure why. 

He remembers with a start that the King will be returning from his trip to the Werewolf Sultanate tonight, if he’s not back already, and that means he, Minhyuk and Hyungwon will have to lie low until he’s returned. It isn’t so hard to avoid the King, really—he’s reclusive like his son—but his very presence, or the mere knowledge of his presence, is quite unnerving. It leaves a growing feeling of paranoia. Kihyun can’t say he feels safe within the walls of this palace, but then again, he can’t recall ever feeling safe here.

He gets out of bed, knowing trying to go back to sleep is futile, and makes it four steps towards the bathroom before he sees it. On the little table near the door, which is laden with the Prince’s unwashed laundry, is a small box and a piece of paper. As he approaches it, wary and tired, he catches what’s written on the paper.

_**Kihyun** _

He recognizes the Prince’s small, curly handwriting instantly. His skin goes cold as he reaches for the box. Shaking it slightly, he hears the tinny jingle of jewelry and opens it as quietly as he can.

Sitting on a small cushion is a bracelet, and the charm on the chain is a blue topaz set in silver. His hand comes to cover his mouth. It’s nearly identical to the citrine necklace the Prince had gifted Minhyuk for his birthday, before everything fell apart. Kihyun looks at the semi-precious stone and tries to ignore his eyes blurring. 

It just seems so strange—nights of silence from the Prince, and now a priceless birthday gift?

He makes up his mind as the Vampiric Church bells chime, signalling the change of hour and the waking of the city. 

If the Prince won’t come to them, they’ll just have to go to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... surprise!! I really hope you guys are happy to see this update because I am so happy to upload it!
> 
> Long story short, after I posted chapter 5 I realized I didn't really plot the book well, considered taking it down, decided not to and instead changed the entire plot. Then I started school again and that took away all of my free time and my energy, and it's taken me literally five months to write this, but I'm finally done and this chapter was hard to write anyway.
> 
> YES, I will be resuming updates on this book. BUT, the updates will be infrequent. I'm trying really hard, guys, I really am. But this situation is just the worst. I'm so sorry that it took me half a year to get this to you guys. I will try to do better for you.


	7. Chapter 7: Until We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minhyuk, Hyungwon and Kihyun are nothing if not stubborn. Hyunwoo and Hoseok are tired, and confused. Jooheon is a worthy ally. Changkyun is a ticking time bomb.

**Chapter 7: Until We Meet Again**

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The second of February. 1890._

There’s something quite morose about snow, Changkyun has decided. Snow is a special sort of gloom—beautiful, no doubt, but somber. If Changkyun were a type of weather, he’d be a gentle snowfall. 

A mild blizzard tears soundlessly from the early February evening sky as Changkyun paces the corridors of the palace. At least six inches of white fluff collected over the kingdom during the day while the people slept, and the palace, too, is blanketed in the stuff. The pointed turrets and crenellated battlements of the castle that pierce the darkened sky are draped in snow; the glass windows are frosted over like icing on a cake.

Prince Changkyun much prefers snow over rain. Snow, unlike rain, is silent and dainty. Rain falls heavily, loudly: a constant drumming, and while most vampires find it soothing, Changkyun finds it dull. Snow is soft, and gentle. The best kind of sound is no sound, and that is what snow brings. Snow is peace in the form of white crystals. 

He supposes his pensive mood has been brought upon by the book he’s reading currently; Robert Burton’s _The Anatomy of Melancholy_ is open between his hands. He pulls his eyes away from the old English on the page before him, looking around himself. It’s early. He’s sure he’s the only one awake in the palace right now. The sun hasn’t gone down yet, but you’d never know it thanks to the haziness of the snow and the slate-colored clouds from which it falls. Early in the evening, while the sun is winding down, before even Seokjin wakes up, is when the peace within the palace is at its peak. It’s also when, Changkyun has found, his mind is the sharpest, clearest, and most ready to absorb any information. He tends to read harder, heavier books during this time of the night. 

His habits of wandering while reading often bring him to the strangest parts of the castle, and aside from his sparring sessions with his guards in the catacombs every few nights, it’s the only form of exercise he gets. This late afternoon, his feet have brought him to the ballroom.

It’s empty, of course, and it’s only clean because of the frequent dusting the staff must do in order for the room to maintain its crispness. Changkyun’s footsteps echo loudly in the empty hall. The last time the ballroom was used was during the December holidays, for Byungwook’s winter ball. Christmas is not a holiday celebrated by many in the Kingdom—the characteristic aversion to Christian objects, celebrations, and symbols is among the few myths the Humans have about the Vampires that are, in fact, true—but December still brings a cheeriness, a feeling of togetherness to a kingdom so driven apart that most citizens cannot help but enjoy the season anyway. Of course, this meant the king had thrown another lavish ball for the nobility of Sarisong, and Changkyun had had every intent of going to the ball, for no other reason than to see Jooheon again.

But his father had chosen that particular ball to make an unexpected appearance. If Changkyun hadn’t managed to hear about it before getting ready, the night would have ended quite badly. And so it remains that the last time he’d seen Jooheon, with whom he’s fallen quickly and dramatically in love, despite their lack of face-to-face contact, was months ago. 

Prince Changkyun feels his bitterness slowly eating at him. Every thought of his father is like a little creature taking a bite out of his patience. Every thought is a step closer to the edge. He’s endured his father’s torment for years knowing that one night, he will die. One night, no matter how long it may take, the king will die, and Changkyun will take the throne. The thought of his father’s death kept him going for a half a century. He clung to it desperately, and he withstood the torment hoping that life would be better on the other side. 

But now, he has people he cares about: people who are directly in danger just by knowing him. And because of this, he’s found, he can endure the abuse no longer. 

The past months and everything that’s happened to him—meeting and learning to trust his attendants and his guards, who are gifts from God Himself; his nights away from the palace, those precious moments when he feels he can truly breathe; the small birthday celebrations thrown for himself and Hyungwon only a few nights ago; and Jooheon, another gift in his own right—all of it. It’s given him something worth fighting for. 

For sixty five long years, he’s taken Prince Yuta’s advice—he’s endured it. He’s trained himself to be the morality in the castle: the bigger man, the better man. 

No longer.

War between families is loud, dramatic, captivating. On the flip side, war between family members, he’s read, is silent. But warfare between Prince and King—in Ganghae Palace, he would argue—is not silent, or invisible. And the great Vampires in history, those who fought for freedom from the Humans and protection from the Obake, the Werewolves, the Dragonpeople, and the Sirens, all with whom they’ve warred—those great vampires did not achieve freedom and protection by asking for it. They had not simply gotten what they wanted: they had taken it. 

War leaves no room for morality when it brings out a creature’s most primal instinct: to survive.

And as Prince Changkyun stands at the base of the huge window of the ballroom, feeling quite small in the light spilling from the great sheet of glass, he watches the snow, falling hastily in big, ivory flakes from the gloom that hangs above the city. He thinks to himself that this war will not be won by kindness alone. From all he’s read about war, about its realities and fallacies, he’s learned that the truths of war are contradictory. War is beautiful, war is grotesque. War brings you to life, war kills you.

Either way, this is a war from which he must emerge victorious. 

* * *

He decides to take the long route back to his chambers, satisfied that he’d had a good hour to read to himself alone, and the great clock in the throne room strikes seven in the evening. There’s no point in trying to go back to bed, now that the palace will slowly wake up, starting with Seokjin, Kyungsoo, and his own guards. His own attendants, too.

The thought of his friends lands a blow like a sledgehammer on his heart, momentarily winding him. Distancing himself from his attendants had been harder than he’d thought it might be. But, now that he’s allowing himself to think about it, he should have expected it. Since Kihyun’s birthday, he’s learned quite a bit more about his attendants. They’re pushy. All three of them are, in their own ways. 

Kihyun is the sort to hang around, only leaving once formally dismissed. He asks if there’s anything he can do in the moment, and takes his time cleaning and putting away clothing. His methods are both subtle and suffocating. It's hard for Changkyun to describe, but often, Kihyun’s presence is a constant. He’s like a shadow: something you’re not always fully aware of, but know is always there.

Minhyuk is less indistinct. He takes every opportunity he has to talk to Changkyun—talk to him as if nothing’s wrong, as if Changkyun isn’t trying to save their hides by pushing them away. He actively works to engage Changkyun in conversation, and, like Kihyun, doesn’t leave unless properly dismissed. These two, Changkyun has learned, are not the type to lie down and take it, which he finds both terribly infuriating and incredibly admirable. 

Hyungwon, on the other hand, is different. He knows when he is not wanted, and leaves accordingly, but makes his presence known otherwise. He often comes by at random times within the night to leave a snack, a goblet of blood, or, in very special occasions, a book or another small gift. He does not expressly say that they are gifts for Changkyun, nor does he let Changkyun see him delivering the gifts, but the attendant’s vanilla scent is strong and hovers over everything he touches. Changkyun sometimes wonders if Hyungwon is aware of such a thing.

Often, the books Hyungwon will bring to him are books Changkyun discusses with his guards. He’ll mention that the particular book is not within his personal bookcase, and within the next few hours, the book will be propped against the wall outside his bedroom door. It touches Changkyun and makes him sad at the same time—his attendants listen to him even when he doesn’t want them to.

The three of them are making it incredibly difficult for Changkyun to not think about them. His mechanism for avoiding something had always been to push it from his mind completely: a tactic that worked quite well when it came to certain matters, such as his own family. In this case, though, they know what Changkyun is doing, and they will not allow themselves to be forgotten so easily.

Changkyun isn’t sure why it makes him hot with both anger and humility.

The sound comes, at first, as no more than a humming, a buzzing—like an insect trapped in a container. 

Someone nearby is talking.

He cannot make out the words, only that the voice is getting nearer.

His first instinct is to hide. Unfortunately, being in an empty hallway on the ground level of the palace, where all of the staff reside, there’s not much to use as a hiding place. 

He ducks behind a door, finds himself in an empty boudoir decorated with furniture the color of rubies. A stone staircase on the opposite wall from the door leads to a second level to the boudoir: a room with two levels, on the ground level of the castle? He doesn’t recognize this room; it’s only then that he realizes he’s spent so much time in his own chambers over the past decades he hardly knows his own castle at all. 

No matter. Once he’s king, this palace will be torn to shreds. A new one will be built in its place and he will know every room in it like the back of his hand.

The voices traveling down the hallway get louder, and his initial impulse is to fly up the stairs and hide in whatever furniture lies up there, but the moment he recognizes the voices, he freezes.

“How soon until you think the Prince will give in?”

Hoseok.

“Give into what?”

Hyunwoo.

“It isn’t as if his attendants have been subtle. Don’t you think His Grace will relent eventually?”

Changkyun narrows his eyes. 

“Well, the Prince isn’t trying to protect them from himself,” Hyunwoo muses. “If he were, I think he’d have given in long ago. He’s trying to protect them from his father. He has yet to see that his attendants are not the only ones risking their necks, walking around this castle. I think as soon as His Grace comes to terms with that, he will relent. But he’s shown us he’s rather unpredictable, isn’t he?”

As the guards pass by the boudoir, Hoseok’s reply is lost in the spiraling hallway. The guards’ footsteps on the carpet fade away. Changkyun is so busy thinking about what Hyunwoo had just said that it takes him far too long to realize that the guards are on their way to his room—and that if they discover he isn’t there, there will be serious issues.

He flies up the staircase across the room and is grateful to see that the door on the second level opens to a hallway on the floor above ground level, but he quickly realizes he’s lost. The decades he’s spent in his room, avoiding his father, have succeeded only in making him feel like a stranger in his own castle.

Eventually, after running around a little, he finds an area of the castle he’s familiar with—the library. The library is the only place in the palace he regularly goes to aside from his own bedroom. He tries to make his footsteps as quiet as possible as he flaps like a demented bat up the countless staircases, and as he approaches the fifth level where his room is located, Hoseok and Hyunwoo’s voices grow nearer. On complete impulse, he shifts forms. He moves faster as a wolf, and his black fur blends in with the darkness of the palace. In wolf form, he flies down the corridor and as he sprints, the candles lining the hallway go out.

Back as a bipedal creature, he’s just slipping back into his bed to pretend he’s been dead asleep the entire time when the door opens, and the guards come silently into the room. They’ll stand there in silence for another two hours, just as they do every evening before Changkyun wakes up.

As he lies there, listening to the silence, the conversation he’d overheard in the boudoir turns over and over in his head. 

Often, Changkyun finds himself wondering what to do. He’s not nearly as confident in his own genius as he should be—something he’s quite aware of now, thanks to Kihyun and Minhyuk—and for a while, the only ones he would trust to answer his questions were his attendants. Now that they are the subject of his questions, he feels more lost than ever.

He’s had to navigate through life almost entirely on his own. There had been a time when he’d been happy, but it was so long ago he’s not even really sure if it was real. His memories of his mother are fuzzy, and they are so few that the only reason he remembers what she looks like is because of the epic painting of her in the room leading to the Main Tower. Byungwook often tells him that Dahye would’ve hated him. Changkyun has no real reason to believe he ever was or could be the subject of his mother’s love. 

He sometimes wishes his mother had survived, but only because if she had, Byungwook would probably be a different person than who he is now. If Dahye had survived her sickness, Byungwook would still have been arrogant, of course, and would still possess his dreadful temper, but he'd have been a different person, too. Maybe, he’d have been someone Changkyun could’ve learned to respect.

But above all, he wishes Dokyun had survived. His favorite person to talk to about his brother is Seokjin, because Seokjin has been around for a long time and he remembers everything—something that Changkyun supposes is probably both a blessing and a curse. Changkyun had been there the day Dokyun had fallen, but he’d been so little that the only memory he has of that day is the earth-shattering sound of his mother’s anguished screaming. That, and the seventy year old portrait of eight-year-old Dokyun, hidden in the catacombs, is all he has of his brother. And yet, he feels more respect towards Dokyun’s ghost than he does either of his parents. Changkyun wishes Dokyun had survived if for no other reason than he wouldn’t be completely, utterly alone if he had. 

“Dokyun, what would you do?” he whispers to himself, knowing full well there would be no answer. But sometimes, he likes to think that Dokyun is watching him, nodding along, telling him he’ll be all right.

He’d forgotten momentarily that his guards are only a few paces away. He feels their gazes on him intensely, but he lies still, breathing evenly—and after a moment or so they seem to decide he’d been sleep-talking and resume their quiet conversation. Shaking away his thoughts of his brother before he can make himself any sadder, he decides to eavesdrop.

To his surprise, they’re still discussing the attendants.

“I meant to ask you a while earlier, but how did your discussion with Kihyun turn out?” Hyunwoo asks. “I know it’s been months, but that was the last time either of us had real contact with them…”

“Well… he forgave me,” Hoseok replies softly. “And he thanked me when I told him we stopped the Prince from delivering his speech.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Of course, but… I don’t know. He intrigues me, but I’m not sure why. I can never seem to say the right thing around him. I suppose I’ll just have to keep trying.”

“I agree,” Hyunwoo muses. “I suppose the term bad-tempered is the wrong term, but how else would you describe him?”

“Not bad-tempered, just… guarded.” Hoseok says. “Perhaps if I keep showing him kindness and respect he’ll let down his walls.”

“Perhaps he will, but perhaps he will not,” Hyunwoo says wisely. “Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.”

“Hear, hear.”

Pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place for Changkyun at that moment. It is true that the guards have only had very fleeting contact with his attendants, as per his instructions, but he isn’t blind, or stupid. Anyone paying attention is able to see the glances the guards sneak at the attendants, and even though the attendants are there mainly to get Changkyun’s attention, they’re not unreceptive to the glances.

It’s a bit pitiful, but more than anything, it’s made it clear to Changkyun that he’s not the only one missing their presences. He appreciates Hoseok and Hyunwoo and all they’ve done for him, but Minhyuk and Kihyun are easier to have discussions with. 

He’s felt so alone all his life. He’s beginning to realize that all of them, all six of them, are better off as a team, from a strictly utilitarian point of view. All of them are skilled, capable, powerful—what they all bring to the table in terms of personalities and talents could make them truly unstoppable.

But from the point of view of a friend, he misses them.

* * *

_**1890/2/2** _

_**Honey,** _

_**There is no simpler way to say this: I miss you terribly. The photo you enclosed of yourself in your previous letter left me winded. I was breathless not only by your beautiful smile and exquisite dimples but also by longing. The fact I have not seen you in quite some time leaves me with an ache, an unquenchable thirst.** _

_**I am restless here, I must admit. I have rewritten my speech to the governor of Haegye with the intent of mailing it to the governor of Dahye. It sits in the corner of my desk, an unsuspecting scrap of parchment locked away from prying eyes, and its presence leaves a weight on my shoulders. I know not how to get it to the governor. The main issue is that Dahye is quite far from here, as I’m sure you’re aware. Bats cannot travel so far very quickly; and anyone could recognize the royal seal around our bats’ necks and nick the letter before it finds its way into the hands of Dahye’s governor. Leaving the palace to venture to the city is… well, I’m sure I need not elaborate. I find myself, not for the first time, stuck between a rock and a hard place.** _

_**I miss seeing you, beloved. I hope this is not too soppy but I feel I do not express my gratitude for you enough: that you take my letters, read them with thought and care and desire, makes me so happy and humble I scarcely know how to express my gratitude. This, I feel, would be much easier in person. I’ve never felt more stuck, more lost, like I’m running in place, seeing and hearing everything but unable to reach out and touch it.** _

_**The months have been hard. Please, do not stop sending me your letters. Foxtrot’s visits are what I look forward to the most. However, I must tell you—my situation here has gone from unstable to downright perilous. My father, he has sealed off exits and entries I hadn’t known existed. You are my only connection to the outside world, but I need your word, Jooheon, that if I ask you to stop your communications, you will and you will do so immediately.** _

_**I am formulating a plan. A wretched plan, a dark plan indeed: I can scarcely believe my own mind. I hesitate to share these plans with you, for fear of skewing your vision of me. I feel so terrible, so nefarious, but I have been pushed as far as I can go and then some. Please, understand my desires to carry out these plans, despite the illness they bring to my heart.** _

_**Until we meet again.** _

_**I.M** _

* * *

_**1890/2/4** _

_**I.M,** _

_**It pleases me immensely to hear of your recent endeavors. Your brain works so quickly, so cleverly, I wish for nothing more than to see it in action. Dahye, why, that is where my family’s vacation home is. Our vacation manor sits right on the seawall, overlooking the Runenmaru Sea. Now that I am finally old enough to travel alone, perhaps you’ll allow me to take the letter. With a carriage it should take me no more than three nights.** _

_**I take great pride in being your only connection to the outside world. It is a heavy weight indeed, but nonetheless a weight I bear willingly, and I know you will recoil at the idea of me being your messenger, but your recent letter has left me nervous. That I am aware of your plight and not able to see you, hold you, makes me anxious. Of course I will read your messages carefully but I must make you aware that if you need me, I will help you.** _

_**You might feel as though you are undeserving, because I know you and I know the dark corners of your witty mind. But your heart is good, I know, and your goals are benevolent. I, for one, cannot believe my own blindness: that I was unaware of our very own kingdom’s suffering astounds me in the most unpleasant of ways. I cannot bear the idea of good people suffering needlessly, and your desire to make things better only makes me fall deeper in love.** _

_**I must see you again, my love. I implore that I deliver your letter to the governor of Dahye. As stated above it should not take me more than a week to travel there, do the deed, and return. Listening to your struggles brings me great unease. Please, allow me to help you.** _

_**Your plans, whatever they may be, will never change my view of you. I know, dearest, I know, that you have every right to be weary when the time comes for you to trust. But please, my beloved prince, know that you have a true ally in me.** _

_**Enclose a photo of yourself when you reply to this letter. I have fallen in love with your words, and with your brain. If I shall look upon your face every day, I know I will only fall deeper for you.** _

_**Until we meet again.** _

_**Honey** _

* * *

_**1890/2/6** _

_**Honey,** _

_**I don’t know how to thank you for your help. Offering to deliver the letter: I don’t know if I should let you. I fear immensely that your involvement in my planning will endanger you.** _

_**But I must admit, I cannot stay within these walls any longer. I feel as though I am a powder keg about to explode: despite my worries, I cannot find it in me to deny a chance to see you again.** _

_**Meet me in the bookstore in the early evening of February the ninth. There’s a room in the very back of the store on the first floor where we won’t be disturbed. Send Foxtrot without a letter to let me know you agree to this.** _

_**Your words bring such warmth to me. I miss you, my love. Please, pay close attention to my letters. You are smart, and your brain works in clever ways: I know you will understand hidden messages.** _

_**I feel so lucky to have you, beloved. Please, never forget this.** _

_**Until we meet again.** _

_**I.M** _

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The ninth of February. 1890._

The very same night Changkyun sends Foxtrot back to Jooheon with his letter enclosing instructions and the one photo of himself he could find, Foxtrot returns, signalling Jooheon’s understanding and concurrence with the instructions. Due to the intense security restrictions Byungwook has slowly implemented in the palace, it takes Changkyun nearly three nights to formulate a plan to leave the palace. He ends up enlisting Seokjin and Yoongi again to cover up his absence, but they are understandably apprehensive.

“You cannot be gone longer than a few hours at most, Your Grace,” Seokjin hisses, concerned, pinching his eyebrows together. 

“If we’re lucky, this won’t take long,” Changkyun whispers back. 

His nervousness and excitement at seeing Jooheon again has started to consume him so eagerly he’s not sure if he believes his own words. He knows the moment he lays eyes on Jooheon he won’t want to leave, and wonders if he’ll be able to control himself. He hopes his guards will be able to be reasonable, because as the minutes tick closer to the time they’re meant to leave, he doubts himself more and more.

The palace hasn’t been renovated not once in the thousand years it’s been standing, which makes it quite a perilous place to live, actually—even the most gentle earthquake bears the threat of bringing it down—but it also means that there are secret passages and hidden doorways in and out of the walled palace.

Unfortunately, back in January, around the time of Changkyun’s ninety-first birthday, Byungwook had made a grand show of finding passages in the castle and sealing them. He’d hired a team of expert carpenters to find and block the many holes in the palace walls. It was the closest thing to renovations the castle would ever get, it seemed. Byungwook had called it a birthday gift.

“Sealing these off prevents intruders, don’t you see?” he’d said, voice sickly sweet. “Angry citizens won’t get in now.”

In his mind’s eye, Changkyun had imagined tearing Byungwook limb from limb. But all he’d done instead was force a smile and nod accordingly. 

In his fit of frustration and determination to find another way out, it had taken him only a night to find the one passage Byungwook had missed. Behind a cluster of snapdragons in the gardens, a family of foxes had made their nest in the wall encompassing the city. The little hole is just big enough to fit a large person, and couldn’t have been situated in a less convenient location. The wall circling the castle and the wall surrounding the city weren’t the same wall, but at the gates of the castle they connected, shielding the city in its entirety from the outside. The little hole in the wall was actually a dark tunnel that traveled all the way through the wall.

Traveling through the passageway wouldn’t be pleasant. Changkyun had used it before, but only in moments of total desperation. The passage is cramped, and painstakingly long—not to mention filthy and ridden with insects and cobwebs—but it leads straight to a back alley in the city near the castle. 

Seokjin, the designated lookout, will notify Yoongi when the King becomes preoccupied with something. Yoongi will then alert Changkyun and they’ll make their escape. Changkyun will meet Jooheon in the bookstore, give him the letter, and be on his merry way. If all goes according to plan, it won’t take longer than an hour. 

Changkyun is sure his guards, Yoongi and Seokjin know it probably will take longer. But even if Changkyun knows what they’re thinking, none of them have said anything, and Changkyun is immensely grateful for it.

The early evening is spent in growing anticipation. Changkyun tries to read, finds himself unable to concentrate—paces a hole in his bedroom floor, looks anxiously out the window at the city below. His guards are kind, though, and despite their slightly concerned glances, don’t say anything to try to comfort him. He appreciates this, too. Nothing they say will calm his nerves. He’s glad they’ve learned this.

At a quarter to midnight, someone knocks three times on the door. Expecting Yoongi, Changkyun opens the door himself, and instead finds Minhyuk in the hallway. In his arms is a wicker basket of folded laundry.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” Minhyuk says cheerily, bowing before walking inside the room. 

Hyunwoo and Hoseok share a glance. Changkyun’s chest tightens so fiercely he has to take a deep breath.

“A wonderful evening, is it not?” Minhyuk babbles. 

Changkyun knows him well enough to know that Minhyuk is aware that something is going on: he’s sure his own nervous agitation is palpable in the air. But Minhyuk does an excellent job of pretending nothing is wrong when the time comes to do so, and it's one of the many skills Minhyuk has that Changkyun appreciates deeply.

“Yes,” Changkyun says shakily after a moment. His anxiety is causing his stomach to turn with nausea. With a heavy sigh, he sits down in his reading chair, semi-aware of how his leg shakes. He runs his tongue across his fangs; he hasn’t touched the breakfast Hyungwon brought for him hours ago, too worked up to even consider putting anything in his mouth.

“Your Grace,” Minhyuk says suddenly, moving closer. His eyes are wide. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

Clearly unconvinced, Minhyuk looks at the guards for explanation. His eyes meet Hyunwoo’s for a split moment before looking at Hoseok instead. If Changkyun weren’t on the verge of a nervous meltdown, he’d have found the brief eye contact peculiar in an amusing way. Now, he can’t give it a moment’s thought.

When looking at them doesn’t produce an answer, Minhyuk opens his mouth to ask the guards directly what’s going on, but then there’s another knock on the door. Hyunwoo opens the door first, revealing Yoongi.

“Your Grace,” he says, “the time has come.”

“The time for what?” Minhyuk demands.

Changkyun ignores him, on his feet in a flash. “What’s he doing?”

“A letter from the Werewolves has arrived,” Yoongi says. “It… it appears the situation is quite dire. Seokjin and Namjoon will keep him distracted, but you must make haste.”

“Your Grace,” Minhyuk speaks up again. “What is going on?”

“We’re leaving,” Changkyun says brusquely, reaching for his coat. “We’ll be back within the hour.”

“...I see.”

The dejected tone of Minhyuk’s voice lands another heavy blow on Changkyun’s already nervous heart. He turns to the attendant, who is busying himself by putting away the folded laundry, but the hurt is clear on his face.

Changkyun opens his mouth to say something, but words don’t come. 

“Your Grace,” Yoongi badgers urgently.

He feels like the rope in a game of tug-of-war, being pulled on from both sides: he feels conflicted, sad, angry. It was never his intent to hurt his attendants; he only wanted to protect them.

He doesn’t give himself another moment to think about it. Turning swiftly on his heel, he follows Yoongi out the door, his guards on his heels.

* * *

_Sarisong City._

The passage is every bit as dirty and disgusting as Changkyun remembers it being. He’s grown quite a bit since he last used it, too, and hadn’t accounted for this: the walls of the tunnel brush his hips and shoulders and he knows even in the darkness that he’s probably ruined his tunic. He supposes he has it better than Hoseok and Hyunwoo, though—they’re both bigger than him and when, after what feels like hours and hours of crawling through muck, they finally make it into the back alley the passage empties into, they’re just as dirty and clearly in at least a little pain. But neither of them complain. Hyunwoo grimaces, rubbing at his lower back, and Hoseok is covered in grime, but neither of them say a word about it. 

He leads the guards swiftly into the city, uncomfortably aware of the letter in his cloak. The moment he hands that letter to Jooheon, he’ll have to leave again. He can only stall for so long. 

The city streets are as beautiful as ever. The recent snowfall has cloaked the city in white frosting. Lamps and candles lining the street cast a gleeful orange-yellow glow on the streets and shops and the moon, a mere sliver of white against the black sky, is no match for the gold of the streetlights. Snow falls from the shadowed sky above; vampires in priceless clothing and jingling jewerly bustle by, half hidden under extravagant parasols and oil-paper umbrellas. Horse-drawn carriages rumble past, filling the air with the sound of hoofbeats on cobblestone. The clamor of the streets is almost loud enough to drown out the fast beating of his own heartbeat.

Almost.

Entering the bookstore is a hassle; the store is packed. He’s forgotten how busy the shopping areas become during holiday times. Changkyun can barely breathe as he makes his way towards the back room. He hopes Jooheon is already there; he’s not sure his heart can take much more waiting. The blood rushing in his ears is terribly uncomfortable but it’s been so long since he’s felt so _alive_.

His hand is shaking as he reaches for the doorknob of the room. He opens the door, and there he is.

His back is to Changkyun and he’s recognizable solely by his vicious shock of ginger hair, glowing like fire in the dim candlelight. He turns in surprise when the door swings open and when his beautiful chocolate eyes meet Changkyun’s, they grow wide and shiny. Even more striking than Changkyun remembers, dressed in a white button down, a black vest and black slacks, he gazes at Changkyun as though looking at something beautiful, something precious, something worth protecting, worth loving.

Changkyun has never felt more in love than he does in this moment. 

“You’re filthy!” Jooheon gasps, eyeing him up and down.

Changkyun steps fully into the room, vaguely aware of Hyunwoo closing it behind him, leaving him alone in the little room with Jooheon. The room is nothing more than a private reading space; back before his father began cracking down on his so-called ‘security measures,’ on the occasion that Changkyun would visit the bookstore, he’d come to this room to read. Because it’s such a secret little nook, furnished with well-loved plush furniture and the only sound inside comes from the gentle crackling of the little candles, it’s one of the few places Changkyun has discovered he can read without feeling crushed by the weight of eyes that aren’t there.

“You’ll not believe the measures I’ve taken to get here, Jooheon,” Changkyun says, and he feels suddenly hysterical—he laughs, loudly, brightly—and the ball and chain he’s felt around his ankles and wrists for decades fades.

Jooheon watches him in bemused surprise, and as soon as Changkyun is through with his laughing fit they embrace each other. Changkyun sinks into Jooheon’s strong arms, breathes in his scent—he smells clean, like baby powder—he wants to stay here with him forever.

They could leave. 

For a moment, he contemplates it.

Tell no one, bring nothing, just leave—travel to Sunbaek, take a boat to a nearby Kingdom, live a secret, quiet life together in the hills of the Obake Kingdom, the shores of the Siren Empire, or the mountains where the Dragonpeople live. 

But the thought is only fleeting before he shoots it down, logic clearing away the fog in his head. He has an obligation to finish what he’s started—to fix what he’s said he’ll fix. His destiny, future and past are tied to this Kingdom. Abandoning it is the most despicable thing he could do.

But he knows in this moment he cannot go back to living the way he did only a year prior. He simply can’t. 

They pull away from each other, and Jooheon cups Changkyun’s cheek with his warm hand. 

“You are as beautiful as I’ve ever seen you,” Changkyun says before he can stop himself. 

Jooheon giggles and leans down to press a gentle kiss on his lips. Changkyun kisses him back, savoring the feeling of his lips on Jooheon’s. They’ve been in each other’s company only once before, and yet, Jooheon’s arms around him feel like safety.

“This has been so hard,” Changkyun whispers. “I am so afraid, so overwhelmed, all the time… I’ve been ignoring my attendants because I want to keep them safe from my father but—”

“How will ignoring them keep them safe?”

“My father… he’s smart. He knows I… do things like this. He’s not paying my attendants anymore, _I_ am—and he told me that if he sees them again, I don’t want to know what he’ll do. I thought if I kept them away from me, he won’t see them anymore, but they don’t seem to care that their lives are at risk. They keep pushing me, trying to be in my presence, and I miss them so much.”

“It sounds like they miss you, too.” Jooheon mumbles into his hair. “You have some awfully dedicated attendants, my dear. Repaying their kindness by ignoring them seems… unfair, does it not?”

Changkyun pauses. He’d never thought about it that way.

“I am so selfish, aren’t I?” he says with a mirthless laugh. 

“No, lovely, of course not. Selfish? Never,” Jooheon croons. “Misguided? ...Perhaps.”

“Misguided?”

“Your heart’s in the right place, Changkyun, but your logic is skewed.” 

“How do I know when a risk is worth taking?”

Jooheon hums, pressing a soft kiss on the crown of Changkyun’s head. “Sometimes you’ll know. Others, you won’t.”

“I can’t afford to make mistakes, Jooheon. These are _lives_ we’re gambling with. I will never forgive myself if anything happens, but I have grown too weary of perpetually being miserable.”

“You don’t gain a single thing from misery, Changkyun,” Jooheon says softly. “You are in control of your own actions. Use those actions for good, Changkyun. Not just for the people—for those close to you, and for yourself, too.”

Changkyun stays quiet, digesting Jooheon’s words. He opens his mouth to speak, but then a sharp rap from the other side of the closed door brings him back to reality.

Jooheon seems to understand the message, too. They pull away from each other, but Changkyun doesn’t let go of his hand. Jooheon’s expression becomes knowing.

“The letter, my love,” Jooheon prompts.

“I don’t think I can,” Changkyun whispers miserably.

Jooheon’s only response is a gentle, pressing stare.

He doesn’t have a choice. Changkyun’s hand is shaking as he reaches into his cloak and pulls out the letter. Jooheon slips it into his own pocket and looks back at him with a gentle smile.

“I don’t want to go back,” Changkyun breathes. He can feel the balls and chains form themselves again on his limbs already.

Jooheon’s smile turns sad. “I know, my love. You once told me about a word you like. Japanese, I think— _Ganbatte_ —is that the term? Keep going. You are destined for greatness. It is an honor that I am able to help you.”

Changkyun again opens his mouth, but Jooheon hushes him. 

“Don’t speak,” he says, “don’t make this harder for both of us.”

Changkyun nods, oncoming tears sewing his throat closed. Jooheon bends closer and kisses his forehead, then gives his hand a final squeeze and walks past. The door squeaks as it opens, squeaks as it closes. Changkyun doesn’t turn around until Hyunwoo’s voice floats towards him from the other side of the door.

“Your Grace,” he says gently. “We must get going.”

Changkyun nods, steeling himself.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace._

Changkyun’s bedroom is empty when they return. The palace is as peaceful as it had been before. His chambers smell blissfully like fresh laundry. 

He’s barely made it as far as his dresser, eager to change out of his filthy clothing, when there’s sharp rap on the door. This one is frantic. He nods at Hoseok to open the door, and once he does, there on the other side of the mahogany threshold stands Namjoon.

He looks incredibly distressed. His face is paler than normal; he wrings his hands. Changkyun knows immediately something is wrong. 

“What is it?” Changkyun demands. 

“I…” Namjoon swallows. Changkyun has never seen him so speechless. “Please, Your Grace… come with me.”

Fearing the absolute worst, Changkyun follows the royal advisor as he leads him through the winding corridors. His nerves, which had been soothed only very briefly in the time he’d spent in his bedroom moments ago, begin to climb again as soon as he realizes where they’re going. Namjoon is leading him towards the staff hallways. 

Eventually he approaches a door Changkyun isn’t familiar with, and after knocking twice, he opens the door. 

It’s a tiny bedroom, and several staff members, including his own attendants, fill the room from corner to corner, crowded around something. Namjoon announces Changkyun’s presence quietly and the crowd parts to let Changkyun into the room. Upon seeing what they’re all looking at, his heart stops in his chest.

Seokjin is lying under the covers of the bed against the wall. Half of his handsome face, including his left eye, is hidden by white gauze. The heavy bandaging trails all the way down his neck, under his nightshirt, and around his wrists and hands. His breathing is ragged and unsteady, and the smell of his blood hangs thick in the air.

Behind him, Hoseok sucks in a gasp. Changkyun can feel Minhyuk’s eyes on him across the room. The mood in the room is so somber he can hardly breathe. 

Yoongi sits at Seokjin’s bedside, his back to the door, but he nods respectfully at Changkyun when he sees him enter. The physician’s eyes are tired and red. The look he gives Changkyun is all he needs.

“What did he do?” Changkyun dares to ask, dreading the answer.

“The letter from the Werewolves,” Yoongi says hoarsely. “It… I know nothing of its contents, but… His Majesty was so angry, Prince Changkyun. Seokjin was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Nausea twists violently in Changkyun’s stomach. He closes his eyes. Seokjin had been the one in charge of stalling Byungwook while Changkyun was away. Being the only living creature in a raging vampire’s line of sight is a death sentence to anyone. 

Guilt swells in Changkyun’s throat; he feels the unpleasant emotion all the way up the back of his throat into his mouth and nose; it chokes him like a foul stench. If he had been here, maybe he could have stopped this. 

This is all his fault.

“We’re lucky I found him when I did,” Yoongi continues, turning his red eyes back to Seokjin. “But I was still too late.”

“Hyung, you did what you could,” Jungkook says; he’s trying to sound comforting but his voice shakes as he speaks.

“I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to see out of his left eye again.” Yoongi breathes. He strokes Seokjin’s closed fist; Changkyun can see the physician’s nails, once finely trimmed, are bitten and jagged, like cliffs on a crumbling mountain.

Next to Changkyun, Namjoon turns away, white in the face, and leaves the room. Changkyun swallows.

“How long were we gone?” he asks Hyunwoo softly.

“Not even an hour,” Hyunwoo whispers back. 

_Not even an hour._ In less than an hour, Seokjin was nearly killed at the hands of Changkyun’s own father. 

There’s nothing Changkyun can do to make up for this. Seokjin is easily the most beloved creature within the ancient walls of this wretched castle: he shows kindness like no other. Seokjin holds a special place in Changkyun’s own heart, for he’s the one staff member who has been a constant in Changkyun’s life since he was a mere fledgling. If he hadn’t survived, God forbid—there’s no telling what would’ve happened. There’s no telling what will happen now.

Part of Changkyun wonders if Yoongi blames him. The other part of him feels like he deserves it.

“There’s nothing to do but wait for him to heal,” Yoongi says somberly. “The next few hours will be… critical. I am reluctant to leave him here alone; I fear his injuries will become infected.”

“I will make sure you are left alone. Is there anything I can do, Yoongi?” Changkyun asks softly. “Anything at all.”

Yoongi pauses. He turns back around to look at Changkyun, really look at him, and his cat-like eyes rest on Changkyun’s sordid clothing. Changkyun is only half aware of Kihyun leaving the room as Yoongi surveys him; he feels pinned under the physician’s feline stare.

“Are you injured, Your Grace?” the physician asks.

Changkyun shakes his head. “Answer my question, Yoongi. What can I do?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi says sharply, shoulders tensing. “There’s nothing anyone can do.”

The room goes cold at his tone, and Changkyun swallows, feeling the words sting like knives on his flesh. In less than a moment, Yoongi’s shoulders relax again. 

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi inhales, then exhales.

“It isn’t your fault, Prince Changkyun.”

Changkyun shakes his head. Yoongi looks back at him again.

“You should rest, Your Grace,” he says gravelly.

He recognizes the statement at once for what it is: a dismissal. He feels it like a slap to the face. And maybe, maybe he shouldn’t accept this from Yoongi, and maybe on an ordinary night he wouldn’t, but right now he feels absolutely impotent. 

“Keep me updated on his condition,” Changkyun says, because it’s all he can bring himself to say.

Yoongi nods. He says nothing.

Without a word, Changkyun leads his guards out of the room. Once the door is closed and they’re a safe distance from prying ears, he turns to them, eyeing their sullied outfits. Hoseok still has dust and cobwebs in his caramel hair.

“Go bathe yourselves,” Changkyun orders impatiently. “Come back, dressed, as soon as you can. Tell no one where you’ve been.”

Hoseok and Hyunwoo nod obediently. Changkyun watches them as they leave, staring at their backs until they’re swallowed by the darkness of the corridors. He makes his way back to his room quickly, eager to get out of his ruined clothing. There are hundreds of portraits of his ancestors in the hallways of the castle—vampires he’s known his whole life but never met even once—and they stare at him as he walks by. He keeps his head down, crushed by the weight of their oily stares. In the corners of his eyes he sees shadows; the ghosts jeer at him, poke at him, laugh at him. They nip at his wrists and ankles, bloodying his limbs, dragging him down, and the only place he can shake them off once and for all is his own bedroom. The door clicks closed behind him, and the demons dissolve in the dim candlelight.

He looks at his wrists, clean and unbitten. He needs to get changed, before his father smells the city’s alleys on him. 

Changkyun is not expecting to step into his bathroom and find the tub full of water. It smells blissfully of citrus and rosemary; circlets of oranges and dried herbs float in the water like a stew. As he dips his fingers into the water, he’s shocked to find the water is warm. The room is empty, but the bath has been drawn quite recently. 

He’s never felt so undeserving of a simple bath in his life. 

Nonetheless, he slips into the water before it can get cold, clothes and all.

He knows who’s drawn the bath. 

He’s always found it peculiar how knowledge can be so heavy. His shoulders and back ache like the devil and he feels as though his bones and joints are encrusted with ice, but somehow, this hurts more. Kindness has always been so hard to come by, so hard to handle, so hard to give—but there are people within the crumbling walls of this very castle who give it so freely and expect nothing in return. Changkyun just cannot understand it.

His eyes grow hot; quickly, the pressure of the tears behind his eyes turns painful. He slides further into the tub until he’s fully submerged, but the warm water doesn’t stop his tears and he releases a sob. His cry crests the surface of the bath water in the form of bubbles, muffled in the liquid silence.

He thinks about what Jooheon had said to him, in the cramped little room in the back of the bookstore. He knows then he’s got some apologies to make.

* * *

“Your Grace? Prince Changkyun, are you all right?”

Changkyun blinks water away from his eyes. It comes as a jarring shock to realize he’s freezing cold. His bones had felt stiffened, rusted, before he’d gotten in the water, but now he wonders if he can even move. He can barely feel his fingers. 

“Prince Changkyun, please answer me…”

He looks up. He’s still in the bath. Kihyun is standing near him, concern etched into his lovely features. He bends down closer to look at Changkyun. 

“Surely the water isn’t warm anymore,” Kihyun says softly. “Come, get out of the water before you freeze.”

“Kihyun, I’m so sorry.”

The words leave his lips before he can think about them. He bites his tongue, wincing as his fangs sink into the muscle, but doesn’t let up until he can taste copper. 

Kihyun, however, doesn’t reply. He walks towards the cabinets that are home to Changkyun’s towels, and pulls out two. Still without a word, he helps Changkyun step out of the icy water, tuts at his wrecked clothing, and leaves the bathroom briefly. He returns with a change of clothes: a simple black cable-knit sweater and black pants. The attendant works quickly around Changkyun while he stands, sopping wet and shivering, in the centre of the small room; Changkyun can’t do anything except watch.

To Changkyun’s surprise and slight horror, Kihyun pulls down a smaller towel, tosses it over his head and begins to dry his hair. As Kihyun rubs the towel over his hair, Changkyun glances back at the bathtub. The herbs and orange slices, shriveled and withered, still float in the water, which is murky from the soot and dust on Changkyun’s body and clothes. Really, it’s a miracle Changkyun hadn’t drowned; he last remembers crying into the water, fully submerged. He probably isn’t as clean as he would be if he’d properly washed himself, either.

Once satisfied with the state of his hair, Kihyun leaves him alone briefly again so Changkyun can change clothes, and comes back in only when Changkyun lets him.

“What time is it?” Changkyun asks wearily.

“Not quite two in the morning,” Kihyun replies, gathering up Changkyun’s squalid clothing. 

Unbelievable. It hadn’t even been midnight when they’d returned from the city. He’d slept for nearly two hours. 

Kihyun’s silence is causing Changkyun to itch in agitation. After waiting for Kihyun to blow the candles out, he follows Kihyun out of the bathroom, sees his guards on the other side of the room, dressed in new clothes and smelling of bath soap. Hoseok gives him a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Kihyun resumes working in swift silence around Changkyun, lighting the candles in his room. He lays the shirt and pants out on the top surface of Changkyun’s dresser to dry. The previous morning, when Changkyun had been too anxious to sleep, he’d dragged out books and paper to distract himself, leading to an early-morning study session. As Kihyun begins to gather the books and paper strewn about the floor, Changkyun sits silently on his bed for what feels like hours, listening to Kihyun move around. He’s found himself unable to look up at him.

Kihyun comes near to his bed, taking up the soft blanket draped over the wooden footboard.

“Speak to me,” Changkyun demands. 

“What do you wish me to say, Prince Changkyun?”

“Anything,” Changkyun pleads. “Just don’t leave me in this silence.”

And Kihyun begins to talk. He tells Changkyun about his night, what he’d done while he was in the city: the list of chores consisted mainly of laundry and cleaning the staff quarters. Seokjin is usually in charge of cleaning the staff area, but as he is now incapacitated, for lack of a better term, Kihyun has volunteered to take care of it. Changkyun learns that until Seokjin is doing better, the Head of Staff’s duties have been split among several different other staff members, including Kihyun and Minhyuk. Seokjin truly doesn’t get enough recognition for all he does, Changkyun realizes. The long list of his duties seems almost endless.

Changkyun lies flat on his back, stretched out on his bed, staring at the intricate designs embroidered in the canopy above him. Kihyun continues talking, talking just to fill the silence, as Changkyun asked him to, and Changkyun listens. The bed is soft and cold under him. As his eyes trail along the spiraling patterns of the canopy drapes, he tries not to think about the night’s events and focuses solely on the sound of Kihyun’s voice. 

He’s so tired of grieving in captive misery.

“Why are you so kind to me?” he asks Kihyun, only after the attendant seems to run out of things to say.

Kihyun, halfway through hanging the dirtied shirt Changkyun had worn to Sarisong on a hanger to inspect the damage, glances at him over his shoulder.

“Perhaps it’s simply in my nature,” he says calmly. 

“How can you be kind to someone who doesn’t deserve kindness?”

At this, Kihyun tears his eyes away from the shirt and looks at him. “We’ve had a discussion similar to this before, Your Grace.”

“Humor me.”

But Kihyun does not.

“What happened to Seokjin is in no way your fault, Prince Changkyun,” Kihyun says firmly. “And I’ll not hear anything otherwise.”

“If I had been here…”

“If you had been here, there is every chance _you_ would have been His Majesty’s target.”

“My point exactly, Kihyun. Better me than someone like Seokjin.”

Kihyun’s expression changes. “No, Prince Changkyun. I will not accept that any longer.”

Changkyun lifts his head in surprise. Kihyun’s tone is gentle, but the words are deeply serious. He sits up further to look at Kihyun full in the face; the brunette attendant meets his gaze levelly.

“I’ve pushed you away for months,” Changkyun says lowly. “I have been most unkind. And yet, you still speak to me like this?”

“Your tenacity is admirable and your intentions are well, Your Grace, but your actions are misguided,” Kihyun says coolly. 

There’s that word again. Misguided. Jooheon had called him that, too. Has he really been so erroneous in his desires to protect those he loves?

“We can all recognize your behavior for what it is.” Kihyun continues. “But we are loyal to you alone, Prince Changkyun.”

He stops there. Changkyun doesn’t need him to elaborate. He lays his head back down on his pillow and closes his eyes.

Perhaps when he wakes up, he’ll feel brave again. But right now, sleep waves her enticing finger at him, beckoning him, and all he can do is succumb to the lure of slumber once more.

* * *

During the conversation with the Prince—if it can even be called that—Kihyun realizes something rudimentary. The Prince doesn’t need the people to hear him simply because they need a source of hope. Prince Changkyun needs the closure that he can still gather support even after everything his father has done. 

King Byungwook’s grip on the Prince is a fist around his throat. Even after the fist is long gone, Kihyun knows, the bruises will still remain.

“His Highness is honorable in his desires,” Hyunwoo says softly.

Kihyun nods absently in agreement, staring at the Prince’s sleeping form. 

“How can we prove to him we care?” Hoseok asks.

“He knows, Hoseok,” Kihyun replies forlornly. “He just… can’t accept it yet. He feels undeserving.”

He turns to the guards, shoulders heavy. “And there isn’t much we can do to fix that. We are working to patch him up, in secret, from the very thing who has broken him. We can show him we care, and I feel we have done so to the best of our ability—but in the end, it must be him to accept our hands. All we can do is keep reaching for him until he reaches for us back.”

“In the end, the decision must be his,” Hyunwoo says in accordance.

Kihyun has always found Prince Changkyun’s strict moral code to be quite admirable, especially in the situation he is in. His whole life, he’s been stuck between a rock and a hard place, and still makes it a point to try to be better than his father—a better monarch, a better person. 

Kihyun doesn’t know how he does it. He himself has always been morally grey. He’d grown up in the twisting, winding streets of Yangjin, and in those parts, there’s no room for selflessness. 

But there are some things in life that are truly unforgivable, Kihyun thinks, and his gaze settles on the Prince’s left hand, palm facing the sky on the bed. The cut his father gashed into the skin with his crown has long since healed, but there still remains a scar across the soft skin of his palm: it’s long and silvery, crossing his hand in a jagged swipe, like a deep fissure in the earth. 

He can see the path Prince Changkyun is facing. He can see it because there had been a time in his life when he’d had to make the choice as well. He’d been much younger than the Prince is now, but he, too, had had to decide for himself to choose the light path, the dark path, or the one in between. 

The Prince is unpredictable; he doesn’t enjoy sharing what goes on in his perplexing mind. Kihyun doesn’t know which path the Prince will choose. All he can do is pray for the best, and swear to support him no matter which one he decides to walk.

* * *

The Prince sleeps through the rest of the night. Around dinnertime, Kihyun takes a tray of food to his room, only to be turned away by Hoseok, who argues that the Prince needs his sleep. Kihyun debates waking the Prince anyway, so he can drink something and change into different clothing, but one look at Prince Changkyun, still totally unconscious on his bed, and he decides to let the Prince rest.

He thinks back to when he’d stepped into the Prince’s bathroom, an hour and a half after drawing the bath, to find the poor boy dead asleep in the freezing water. He’d been nothing short of horrified at the Prince’s white skin and blue lips until he registered the boy was still breathing. It had taken him a good few minutes to wake him, at any rate: the Prince is a light sleeper.

He doesn’t always agree with the stupid guards, but he knows Hoseok is right: the Prince truly does need the rest.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The seventeenth of February. 1890._

It’s over a week before Changkyun hears from Jooheon again. In the middle of the night when Changkyun is least expecting him, Foxtrot flaps dramatically through the window, which Changkyun has learned to keep open so the poor bat doesn’t hurt himself again. Under normal circumstances, Changkyun would be over the moon to see Foxtrot, but the events of the past week have left his mood pensive and forlorn. He hasn’t had the energy to do much other than laze around, sleep, and read—twice already, he’s turned down an invitation from his guards to spar a bit in the catacombs—and Foxtrot’s sudden appearance, he realizes with slight horror, does not excite him now as it once used to.

The bat shrieks to announce his presence and leaps gracelessly off the windowsill onto the desk surface, a letter tied to his foot. His thrashing sends the carefully stacked papers flying about the area. Changkyun hurries to calm him, and sends Minhyuk, who had been silently cleaning his bathroom, to the kitchens for some fruit for the little bat to snack on.

He’s been closely monitoring news from Dahye and Haegye, but over the week, nothing has changed. Nothing that matters to Changkyun, at least. He kept scouring for news regarding his father, himself, or Jooheon, but nothing ever made its way into the papers. In this case, no news is good news, but it hadn’t stopped Changkyun from being an anxious disaster the whole week. 

He unties the letter around Foxtrot’s leg quickly, hoping Jooheon’s dark, slanted handwriting will calm his nerves.

_**1890/2/15** _

_**I.M,** _

_**I believe with certainty that the letter has been delivered successfully. I planted it on a mail truck headed for the governor’s mansion. Of course, I understand there will be no response to guarantee the letter made its way into his hands, but I feel quite confident the letter is in its intended location.** _

_**That being said, I must admit my curiosity of the letter’s contents piqued while on my journey to Dahye. I didn’t open it, but I do hope you understand and will honor my request for an explanation. I think, perhaps, if I understand fully why you feel the need to reach out to the people under such treacherous circumstances, I will be better equipped to help you. My question is this: why attempt to gather support from the outside, when it sounds like you have all the support you need within the walls of your very own castle?** _

_**Another thing. My parents, they are catching onto our secret life. They don’t know it’s you, but they know there is someone—and they’ve been pressuring me to find someone sooner or later and get married. I am a carrier, you see, so while I am the firstborn, my brother will inherit my father’s title. I’m afraid I’m not the most subtle vampire in Sarisong.** _

_**I anxiously await your response, my love.** _

_**Until we meet again.** _

_**Honey** _

Once finished reading, Changkyun sits back in his seat, totally floored. A popular myth about Vampires is that their biology is quite similar to Humans. In fact, with the exception of Sirens, whose bodies undergo serious transformations when underwater, a Vampire’s body is the most different from a human’s. Human myths of Supernatural creatures such as those who inhabit the Supernatural Realm often describe these creatures as being humanoid. Indeed, the opposite is extremely true: in vampire society, gender is not based on the ability to carry a child. There are carriers and noncarriers. Male and female and carriers and noncarriers are not correlated.

Part of Changkyun is furious on Jooheon’s behalf. It is a long-lasting stigma that carriers are unfit to be heads of households; it’s an idea that many citizens in the Kingdom are working tirelessly to defeat. But he’s quickly sobered by the idea that Jooheon, unable to inherit his father’s fortunes, estates, and title, will be eligible to become his Prince Consort, if he so agrees.

He’d hoped Jooheon would be able to cheer him up, but the words on the page leave a worse sense of dread on Changkyun’s shoulders. He supposes it’s not unfair of Jooheon to want an explanation: if he’s in on this, then he, too, should know the reason why. But as Changkyun has spent hours upon hours lost in his own head, thinking far too much to be healthy, he is finding it hard to come to terms with the reason himself.

_**1890/2/17** _

_**Honey,** _

_**Thank you for your letter. Thank you for your help. I am indebted to you.** _

_**You are right—it is not unfair of you to desire an explanation. So, I will give it to you. Why must I get support from the people of this kingdom?** _

_**There is no way to say this simply, so I’m afraid I must be blunt. I am planning to overthrow my father. And I cannot do that alone. Nor can I simply go and slay him, for I fear that would deliver the wrong message to the people. I don’t want to be hated. I don’t want to be feared. I want to be loved.** _

_**But I cannot continue like this. I have grown so weary of simply tolerating what goes on here. Some things are so despicable, they are beyond exoneration.** _

_**I am weak, Jooheon. I am doing this because I am weak. I am doing this because when I begin my reign, I don’t want to have to spend half of it trying to gain the trust of the citizens. My father has soiled my reign before it’s even begun, and I want—no, I need to purify it. My hope, my goal, is that by the time my father breathes his last breath, at least some of this kingdom’s people know I’m not like him. And I will never be like him.** _

_**Forgive me, Jooheon. My question to you, then, is this: why are you helping me? If you know how dangerous this has become, and my true plan and desires, why continue?** _

_**And don’t worry about marriage yet. I trust your clever mind and your instincts, and you know your family better than me. I trust you will be able to get yourself out of this corner, should they back you into it any further.** _

_**Your brother can inherit your family’s assets, because once I inherit the throne, you will become my Prince, if so you desire.** _

_**Until we meet again.** _

_**I.M** _

His hands are shaking when he puts the pen down. He’d been so busy writing, spilling his inner turmoil to the one he loves, that he hadn’t realized that at some point Minhyuk had returned with a small plate of fruit. Perched happily on the edge of the desk, Foxtrot snacks eagerly on a slice of banana. His black eyes shine in satisfaction, little orbs of obsidian, as his tiny fangs chew merrily away on the sweet fruit. 

Changkyun lets the bat finish his snack in silence. While he waits, he folds the letter into an envelope so he doesn’t have to keep staring at his own words. As soon as Foxtrot has eaten his fill, he ties the letter to the bat’s leg, strokes him behind his ears, and lets him fly away.

“Your Grace?”

Changkyun turns his head. Minhyuk is there with a tray of bread and cheese and a goblet of owl blood that smells heavenly. The past few days, he hasn’t been eating as much as he should, and he should’ve known his attendants wouldn’t let that continue on much longer.

Clearly not willing to be refused, Minhyuk boldly pushes some of the papers away and places the tray on the desk before Changkyun.

“Please eat.” Minhyuk says. “At least drink the blood.”

“I’d like to be alone,” Changkyun says without really thinking.

To his surprise, Minhyuk doesn’t nod and leave silently. He doesn’t move; he stands rooted to his spot, watching him with an expression Changkyun can’t read. Changkyun looks at him expectantly.

“I’m sorry, Prince Changkyun,” Minhyuk says somberly. “I don’t think I should leave you to your thoughts any more than I already have.”

“Please, don't blame yourself for this bout of melancholy,” Changkyun says. 

“I don’t.” Minhyuk replies easily. “I only wish there was something I could do to help you.” 

“I will claw myself out of this eventually,” Changkyun says. “I always do.”

“Well, this time, you don’t have to be alone,” Minhyuk says with a soft smile. 

The statement is so simple, yet so true that the tears come to Changkyun’s eyes before he can stop them. He turns away from Minhyuk and his guards so they can’t see his tears, but he lets them roll down his face freely. His thoughts have been choking him for far too long; he’d known he was bound to crack at some point.

So he sits there and weeps silently. He doesn’t shrug Minhyuk away when he feels the attendant’s hand, warm and soft, rest on his shoulder. 

It’s not the first time he’s fallen apart like this, but he lets himself break, knowing that later, at the very least, he won’t be alone when he inevitably has to put himself back together.

* * *

_Ganghae Palace. The nineteenth of February. 1890._

Hyunwoo’s mood is low following the Prince’s episode, but he doesn’t blame the Prince for that. The mood in the entire castle has been as though it is perpetually raining, dampening everyone’s spirits for weeks. Even a letter from Jooheon didn’t seem to improve the Prince’s mood. He’d refused to tell his attendants or his guards about the letter’s contents when they’d asked.

One thing Hyunwoo is noticing more and more, though, is how deeply the attendants really do care for the Prince. Minhyuk’s determination to provide company to Prince Changkyun during his breakdown truly showed Hyunwoo the attendant’s desire to help him. 

Hyunwoo has never been good at connecting emotionally with others, or portraying his own emotions. Seeing Minhyuk do it so easily is a shock indeed, but not a bad shock. In a way, seeing Minhyuk allow the Prince to be vulnerable brings out vulnerability in Minhyuk, too. Hyunwoo feels like he knows him a little better after it’s all over.

Following his breakdown, the Prince spends more time sleeping. Kihyun had chalked it up to him needing to recover, which Hyunwoo doesn’t doubt for even a second, but he doesn’t feel at ease watching the Prince sleep. It’s necessary that they be there even while he sleeps, but Hyunwoo often feels as though he’s intruding on the Prince during a time when he is most exposed. It’s not a feeling that sits comfortably on his shoulders.

After four straight hours of sitting in silence, he can’t take the restless feeling anymore and tells Hoseok he needs to use the loo. The other guard just nods, clearly in his own world, and Hyunwoo slips from the Prince’s room quietly.

He wanders the palace mindlessly for only a few minutes, just to clear his head a little, and doesn’t stray far from the Prince’s hallway. He never gets the chance to explore the castle on his own, so as he walks around he takes in the sights around him: the priceless portraits of long-dead Lim family members, vibrantly colored landscape paintings, and ink-wash _ukiyo-e_ woodblock prints from the Obake Kingdom to the north, depicting monochrome scenery and flora. After about five minutes of aimless meandering, he decides to head back to the Prince’s bedroom. 

Voices catch his attention as he begins the ascent towards the Prince’s chambers; he turns his head to see Seokjin and Yoongi crossing the hallway. It’s the first time he’s seen them since Seokjin was the victim of King Byungwook’s angry outburst. They don’t notice him as they amble past. Seokjin, still heavily bandaged, is leaning clumsily on Yoongi for support. They’re completely silent. Hyunwoo doesn’t move until they’re gone.

Hyunwoo sighs to himself, sort of glad the Prince hadn’t seen them. He doesn’t want to know how the sight of Seokjin trying to recover from the maul would affect Prince Changkyun. After stretching out his tense shoulders a little, he resumes his return to the Prince’s bedroom.

He makes it onto the stairway landing leading towards the Prince’s corridor before running into the very attendant he’d just been thinking about earlier.

He manages to stop moving in time to avoid knocking him over, but Minhyuk, at the top of the stairs, still hadn’t been expecting him and Hyunwoo has to lunge to grab him before he really does fall over and tumble down the steps.

“Good Lord,” Hyunwoo mumbles, panicked. “Are you all right?”

He looks into Minhyuk’s face and his heart drops when he registers the attendant has been crying. If Hyunwoo hadn’t been really looking, he probably wouldn’t have noticed, but because Minhyuk is only inches from his eyes, he can tell immediately: his eyes are rimmed red.

“I’m fine. I should’ve been watching,” Minhyuk says hastily. “You, er, you can let go of me now.”

It takes a moment of silence for Hyunwoo to realize he’s still holding onto Minhyuk. Feeling heat bloom in his face, he lets go of the attendant. Minhyuk looks everywhere but at Hyunwoo, straightening out his uniform.

“Sorry,” Hyunwoo says bashfully.

Minhyuk gives a weak smile. 

“Are you all right?” Hyunwoo asks before he can talk himself out of it. 

“Huh? Oh, of course,” Minhyuk says hurriedly. “Honestly, if you hadn’t caught me, I might not be, but alas… I’m not at the bottom of the stairs, so…”

He trails off with a nervous giggle. Hyunwoo shakes his head.

“That’s not what I mean,” Hyunwoo says. 

Minhyuk cocks his head. “I’m quite well. Why do you ask?”

Hyunwoo isn’t sold. 

“I’m asking how you’re doing because I know this can’t be easy for you,” Hyunwoo says. “Caring for the Prince when he is trapped in a state like this…”

Minhyuk swallows and glances away. “It… it is hard, I will not lie. But I’m managing.”

Hyunwoo clears his throat. “I find it quite admirable. I’ve never been very good at connecting with others emotionally, but you do it with ease. Especially with the Prince.”

Minhyuk gives another nervous chuckle. “The Prince does pose a challenge, at times.”

Hyunwoo laughs with him, even though what he’d said wasn’t really funny. “He does prove hard to care for sometimes, doesn’t he? I am glad he is getting the rest, but… while he sleeps, I grow restless of my own company.”

“Why? You have Hoseok.”

“Kihyun forbade him from speaking when the Prince is sleeping. He says it’s because the Prince is a light sleeper, but I think he forbade Hoseok from talking because he tires of his voice.”

Minhyuk bursts into laughter. It’s loud and bright and clear, and it is such a change from the musty sadness hanging over the castle that Hyunwoo can’t help but join him. As other staff members pass them by, the looks they are given range from confused to horrified, but they continue laughing, because it’s been so long since they’ve had a reason to. He laughs until his stomach aches, but once he manages to calm himself, the weight on his shoulders is considerably less heavy than it had been before.

“Goodness, I needed that,” Minhyuk says breathlessly, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye.

“They do say laughter is the best medicine,” Hyunwoo says with a smile. 

Minhyuk gives him another smile—a real one that lights up his eyes like bright candles—and Hyunwoo notices for the first time that he’s wearing a necklace. It’s a simple silver chain, but the charm that sits at his manubrium is a bright bezel set citrine gem. What’s more, the jewel around his neck brings out the color of his eyes. His eyes are a lovely caramel brown, a color bright enough to rival the stone at his throat. 

“Your necklace is lovely,” Hyunwoo says. 

“Oh,” Minhyuk says, and his fingers fly to his neck to touch the jewel. “Thank you. It’s my birthstone. The Prince gave it to me.”

“The Prince did?” Hyunwoo repeats, surprised. He does recall being present when the Prince gave Minhyuk a birthday gift, months ago, but he hadn’t been told what the gift was. While citrines are only semi-precious, the one at Minhyuk’s throat is definitely a real stone, and it glimmers against the black and red of Minhyuk’s outfit like a light in a dark corridor. 

Minhyuk nods, caressing the stone gently. It’s clear the necklace means a great deal to him.

“It’s beautiful,” Hyunwoo says again. “It brings out your eyes.”

Minhyuk looks slowly up at him, cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. Hyunwoo tries to maintain eye contact, wondering why the hell he’d said that, but Minhyuk gives him another soft smile, and Hyunwoo’s nerves are calmed.

“I shall see you soon, Hyunwoo,” Minhyuk says quietly.

Hyunwoo nods. “And I you.”

With that, Minhyuk turns and resumes descending the stairs.

When Hyunwoo returns to the Prince’s bedroom, the last thing he’s expecting is to see Prince Changkyun awake, sitting at his desk with a letter in his hand. In his lap is Foxtrot, who has tangled himself in Prince Changkyun’s sweater, squeaking in content. The Prince’s gaze, pinned on the parchment in his hand, is watery as his eyes dart across the page.

Hyunwoo looks at Hoseok, alarmed, but Hoseok just gives him a helpless shrug.

“He won’t talk to me,” Hoseok whispers despairingly. 

Unsettled, Hyunwoo looks back at the Prince. After a long, tense few minutes, Prince Changkyun puts the parchment down and rubs his eyes with his long fingers. He releases a shaky exhale. 

“Your Grace,” Hyunwoo calls timidly, fearing the worst. “Are you all right?”

Prince Changkyun looks over at them, and his eyes, glittering with tears, shine with a new light: a light Hyunwoo hasn’t seen in weeks. 

“We have work to do,” Prince Changkyun says at last.

And his voice trembles with unshed tears, but under the wateriness of his tone, there is a hardness, a determination, and for the first time in literal nights Hyunwoo sees a glimmer of the strong, unshakable Prince he knows Changkyun to be.

* * *

_**1890/2/17** _

_**I.M,** _

_**I never want to see or hear you say or write those words again, do you understand me?** _

_**You are many things, Changkyun, but you are not weak. You never have been weak. You will never be weak. You have been pushed to the edge, and you cannot dangle on that edge any longer. You have found yourself in a situation you cannot tolerate any more.** _

_**You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to be in such a perilous situation. And no one will handle it any worse or any better than you have.** _

_**You are brave. And you are strong. And I will never hear you call yourself weak again. Read those words again and again, however long it takes you to understand them. When you fall, even if you bleed, you get back up.** _

_**I understand now your needs and your desires. I understand them plain as night. Your plan is dangerous indeed, and you are right—you cannot accomplish it alone. It is good you have your attendants, your guards—and me. You have me. And you will not be rid of me easily, Changkyun, so don’t you dare even try.** _

_**It is as you said, my love. Some things are truly unforgivable. And I care not if it gets me killed, for I know you and I are standing up for what we know to be true: your father’s reign must end.** _

_**You have my allegiance, do you hear me? I have stated before I understand that you have every right to be suspicious when making the choice to place your trust in someone, but I will say this as many times as you need to hear it to understand it in its entirety: you have me, and you will always have me.** _

_**And once this is all over, once it is your head that bears the crown of this Kingdom, I should like to be the one who sits beside you. I should like to be the one who kisses away your tears, who holds you when you are tired, who encourages you through the hardest of nights. I should like to be your Prince, my love.** _

_**We will get there eventually. You are not alone, Changkyun, no matter how much you fear you are. But it will take patience, it will take genius, and it will take bravery—all of which I know you possess.** _

_**Pick your head up, darling. Your crown is slipping.** _

_**Until we meet again.** _

_**Honey** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading~

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I really hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> A few things:  
> Updates for this story will be _slow._ I want every chapter to be at least 10k words and I'm going to put more effort into making sure every chapter is fully edited and covers everything I want them to cover.  
> Let me know in the comments if there's anything about the setting or time period that confuses you and I'll try to answer as best I can without spoilers. Comments and kudos are wonderfully appreciated--they really keep me going! If your comments are nasty, I will freeze or delete them.
> 
> PLEASE, do not repost/rewrite/plagiarize or otherwise take my work. If you got an idea from this, please credit me. Copyright 2020 to mytinystars on AO3. [My twitter](https://twitter.com/mytinystars)
> 
> With that, I hope you enjoy reading!!


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